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THE  LIBRARY 

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I^onore  tie  Balzac 


J^onotfc  trc  Balzac 

PARISIAN   LIFE 

VOLUME  VII 


LIMITED    TO   ONE    THOUSAND    COMPLETE   COPIES 


NO. 


7  1  S 


■/.  .,!■   //.'/Soi<  tf^fJ; 


A  T  HOME 


She  foinid  the  perfume-dealer  in  the  centre  of  the 
adjoining  room,  luith  a  yard-stick  in  his  hand  meas- 
nring  space,  but  having  his  India-green  dressing- 
gozun  zvith  chocolate-colored  dots  hanging  so  care- 
lessly on  him  that  the  cold  zvas  making  his  legs  red 
li'ithoiit  his  feeling  it,  so  engrossed  was  he.  When 
Cesar  turned  around  to  say  to  his  wife :  "  Well, 
Constance,  what  do  you  want  T'  his  mien,  like  that 
of  a  man  lost  in  arithmetic,  zuas  so  extremely  ludic- 
rous that  Madame  Birotteau  burst  out  laughing. 


THE    NOVELS 


OF 


HONORE  DE  BALZAC 


NOW    FOR   THE    FIRST   TIME 
COMPLETELY   TRANSLATED    INTO    ENGLISH 


HISTORY  OF  THE   GRANDEUR  AND  DOWNFALL   OF 
CESAR    BIROTTEAU 

BY  FRANCIS  T.   FUREY 


WITH      FIVE     ETCHINGS     BY     HENRI-JOSEPH     DUBOUCHET, 
AFTER     PAINTINGS     BY     PIERRE    VIDAL 


IN  ONE  VOLUME 


PRINTED  ONLY  FOR  SUBSCRIBERS  BY 

GEORGE   BARRIE   &   SON,   PHILADELPHIA 


COPYRIGHTED,   1 896,  BY  G.   B.   &   SON 


f9 


8 

o 

O 

a? 


HISTORY 


OF 

THE  GRANDEUR  AND  DOWNFALL  OF 
CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

Dealer  in  Perfumes, 

Deputy  to  the  Mayor  of  the  Second  Arrondissement  of  Paris, 

Chevalier  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  etc. 


189962 


TO 
MONSIEUR  ALPHOmE  DE  LAMARTl^^E 

His  Admirer 

DE  BALZAC 


CESAR  IN  HIS  GLORY 


C^SAR  IN  HIS  GLORY 

* 

Of  winter  nights  there  is  respite  from  noise  in  the 
Rue  Saint-Honore  but  for  an  instant;  kitchen-gar- 
deners on  their  way  to  the  market  continue  the  din 
just  as  it  is  left  off  by  carriages  returning  from  the- 
atre or  ball.    While  this  hum  in  the  great  symphony 
of  the  hubbub  of  Paris,  that  may  be  heard  about 
one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  was  going  on,  the  wife 
of  Monsieur  Cesar  Birotteau,  a  dealer  in  perfumes 
whose  shop  was  near  the  Place  Vendome,  was  sud- 
denly startled  from  her  slumbers  into  a  sitting  post- 
ure by  a  terrible  dream.     The  perfumer's  wife  had 
seen  herself  double;  she  appeared  in  rags,  with  an 
emaciated  and  wrinkled  hand  turning  the  knob  of  her 
own  shop  door,  and  seemed  to  be  at  one  and  the 
same  time  standing  on  the  threshold  and  seated  in  her 
arm-chair  at  her  desk;  she  was  asking  alms  of  her- 
self, she  heard  herself  speaking  at  the  door  and  in  her 
office.     She  aimed  to  clutch  her  husband  and  only 
laid  her  hand  on  a  place  that  was  cold.     So  intensely 
frightened  did  she  then  become  that  she  could  not 
bend  her  neck,  which  seemed  as  if  petrified;  the  walls 
of  her  throat  stuck  together  and  voice  failed  her; 
she  was  stuck  fast  in  her  sitting  posture,  with  dilated 
and  staring  eyes,  sadly  disheveled  hair,  ears  filled 

(7) 


8  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

with  strange  noises,  contracted  but  palpitating  heart, 
all  at  once,  in  short,  perspiring  and  chilled,  in  the 
middle  of  an  alcove  with  both  doors  open. 

Fear  is  a  half  morbid  feeling  which  presses  so 
violently  on  the  human  organism  that  its  faculties 
are  at  once  either  excited  to  the  highest  degree  of 
their  power  or  plunged  into  the  lowest  depths  of  dis- 
organization. Physiologists  have  long  wondered  at 
this  phenomenon,  which  overthrows  its  systems  and 
upsets  its  conjectures;  yet  it  is  merely  an  upheaval 
working  from  within,  but,  like  all  electrical  acci- 
dents, whimsical  and  freakish  in  its  ways.  Such 
will  be  the  popular  explanation  as  soon  as  the  learned 
recognize  what  a  great  part  electricity  plays  in  human 
thought. 

Madame  Birotteau  then  experienced  some  of  those 
slightly  luminous  sufferings  produced  by  those  ter- 
rible discharges  of  the  will  when  expanded  or  con- 
centrated by  an  unknown  mechanism.  Thus,  during 
a  very  brief  interval  of  time  if  we  reckon  it  only  by 
the  clock,  but  incommensurable  by  reason  of  its 
rapid  impressions,  this  poor  woman  had  the  pro- 
digious power  of  evolving  more  ideas,  of  calling  up 
more  memories  than,  in  the  ordinary  condition  of  her 
faculties,  she  would  have  conceived  in  a  whole  day. 
The  very  painful  story  of  this  soliloquy,  absurd, 
inconsistent  and  meaningless,  as  it  was,  may  be 
summed  up  in  a  few  words. 

"  There  is  no  reason  why  Birotteau  should  have 
left  my  bed!  He  has  eaten  so  much  veal  that  per- 
haps he  is  indisposed?    But  if  he  were  sick  he  would 


IN  HIS   GLORY  9 

have  awakened  me.  For  the  nineteen  years  that 
we  have  slept  together  in  this  bed,  in  this  same 
house,  never  has  it  occurred  to  him  to  leave  his  place 
without  telling  me,  the  poor  simpleton!  He  has  staid 
out  all  night  only  when  at  the  guard  house.  Has  he 
slept  with  me  to-night?  Oh,  yes,  good  heavens, 
how  stupid  I  am!" 

She  turned  her  eyes  on  the  bed,  and  saw  her 
husband's  nightcap,  which  still  preserved  the  almost 
conical  shape  of  his  head. 

"He  is  dead,  then!  Has  he  committed  suicide! 
Why  should  he?"  she  continued.  "For  the  past 
two  years,  since  he  has  been  mayor's  deputy,  he  has 
been — I  don't  know  how.  On  my  word  as  an  honest 
woman,  isn't  it  a  pity  they  put  him  in  public  office? 
He  has  been  prosperous  in  business,  and  has  bought 
me  a  shawl.  Perhaps  business  is  going  on  badly? 
Bah!  I  would  know  it.  Do  we  ever  know  what  a 
man  has  in  his  noddle?  or  a  woman,  either?  That 
is  not  an  evil.  But  have  we  not  sold  five  thousand 
francs'  worth  to-day!  Moreover,  a  deputy  would 
not  take  his  own  life,  he  is  too  well  acquainted  with 
the  law.     Where  is  he,  then?" 

She  could  neither  turn  her  neck  nor  reach  out  her 
hand  to  pull  the  bell-cord  that  would  have  aroused  a 
cook,  three  clerks  and  a  shop-boy.  A  prey  to  the 
nightmare  that  continued  in  her  waking  state,  she 
was  forgetting  her  daughter  peacefully  slumbering 
in  an  adjoining  room,  the  door  of  which  opened 
opposite  to  the  foot  of  her  bed.  At  last  she  ex- 
claimed:   "Birotteau!"   and    received    no    answer. 


lO  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

She  thought  she  had  called  out  the  name,  but  she 
had  pronounced  it  only  mentally. 

"  Could  it  be  that  he  has  a  mistress?  He  is  too 
stupid,"  she  continued,  "and  besides,  he  loves  me 
too  much  for  that.  Didn't  he  tell  Madame  Roguin 
that  he  has  never  been  unfaithful  to  me,  even  in 
thought?  He  is  honesty  itself  walking  the  earth, 
that  man  is.  If  anyone  merits  heaven,  isn't  it  he? 
What  sin  can  he  accuse  himself  of  to  his  confessor? 
He  tells  him  peccadilloes.  Royalist  though  he  is, 
without  knowing  why,  he,  for  example,  makes 
scarcely  any  show  of  his  religion.  The  poor  timid 
creature,  he  goes  to  the  eight  o'clock  Mass  on  the 
sly,  as  if  he  were  going  to  a  bawdy  house.  He 
fears  God  for  God's  sake:  hell  hardly  ever  costs  him 
a  thought.  How  could  he  have  a  mistress?  He 
clings  so  closely  to  my  skirts  that  he  wearies  me. 
He  loves  me  better  than  the  apple  of  his  eye,  he 
would  become  blind  for  my  sake.  During  these 
nineteen  years  he  has  never  stormed  at  me.  His 
daughter  he  considers  only  next  after  me.  But 
Cesarine  is  in  that  room, — Cesarine!  Cesarine! — 
Birotteau  has  never  had  a  thought  that  he  has  not 
told  me.  He  was  fully  justified  in  claiming,  when 
he  came  to  see  me  at  the  Petit  Matelot,  that  I  would 
know  him  only  by  living  with  him!  Nay,  more 
than  that! — How  wonderful!" 

She  turned  her  head  painfully  and  furtively 
glanced  across  the  room,  then  full  of  those  pic- 
turesque night  effects  that  language  despairs  of 
describing,  and  that  seem  to  pertain  exclusively  to  the 


IN  HIS  GLORY  II 

brush  of  artists  who  depict  every-day  life.  Words 
fail  to  describe  the  frightful  zigzags  formed  by  the 
shadows  cast,  the  fantastic  appearances  of  the  wind- 
bulged  curtains,  the  play  of  the  flickering  light 
emitted  by  the  night-lamp  through  folds  of  red  calico, 
the  glare  shot  out  from  a  curtain-holder  with  beam- 
ing centre  resembling  the  lens  of  a  dark-lantern,  the 
apparition  of  a  robed  kneeling  figure,  all  the  caprices, 
in  fine,  that  frighten  the  imagination  when  it  is  capa- 
ble only  of  feeling  pain  and  intensifying  it.  Madame 
Birotteau  imagined  she  saw  a  strong  light  in  the 
room  in  front  of  her  own,  and  all  of  a  sudden  she 
thought  of  fire;  but,  her  eye  lighting  on  a  red  silk 
handkerchief,  which  seemed  to  her  to  be  a  pool  of 
spilt  blood,  robbers  monopolized  her  thoughts,  espe- 
cially as  she  was  disposed  to  find  traces  of  a  struggle 
in  the  way  in  which  the  furniture  lay.  Remember- 
ing how  much  money  was  in  the  cash-box,  a 
generous  fear  dispelled  the  nightmare  fever  and 
chill,  she  bounded  quite  aghast,  in  chemise,  into  the 
middle  of  her  room  to  save  her  husband,  who,  she 
supposed,  was  in  a  life  and  death  struggle  with 
assassins. 

"Birotteau!  Birotteau!"  she  at  last  exclaimed  in 
a  tone  of  anguish. 

She  found  the  perfume-dealer  in  the  centre  of  the 
adjoining  room,  with  a  yard-stick  in  his  hand 
measuring  space,  but  having  his  India-green  dress- 
ing-gown with  chocolate-colored  dots  hanging  so 
carelessly  on  him  that  the  cold  was  making  his 
legs  red  without    his   feeling  it,  so  engrossed  was 


12  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

he.  When  Cesar  turned  around  to  say  to  his  wife: 
"Well,  Constance,  what  do  you  want?"  his  mien, 
like  that  of  a  man  lost  in  arithmetic,  was  so  ex- 
tremely ludicrous  that  Madame  Birotteau  burst  out 
laughing. 

"Good  Heavens,  Cesar!  what  a  simpleton  you 
look!"  she  said.  "Why  did  you  leave  me  alone 
without  telling  me?  I  came  near  dying  of  fright,  not 
knowing  what  to  think.  But  what  are  you  doing 
there,  exposed  in  the  draught  as  you  are?  You  will 
get  your  death  of  cold.     Do  you  hear,  Birotteau?" 

"Yes,  wife,  here  I  am,"  replied  the  perfumer,  as 
he  returned  to  their  room. 

"Come,  then,  and  get  warm,  and  tell  me  what 
whim  you  have  in  your  head,"  Madame  Birotteau 
continued  as  she  removed  the  ashes  from  the  fire, 
and  hurriedly  made  it  up  anew.  "  I  am  frozen. 
What  a  fool  I  was  to  get  out  of  bed  in  my  chemise! 
But  I  was  really  afraid  that  some  one  was  assassin- 
ating you." 

The  dealer  put  his  candlestick  on  the  mantel- 
piece, fastened  his  dressing-gown  around  him,  and 
went  mechanically  to  get  a  flannel  petticoat  for  his 
wife. 

"Here,  puss,  put  something  on  you,  then,"  said 
he.  "Twenty-two  by  eighteen,"  he  went  on, 
continuing  his  soliloquy,  "we  can  have  a  superb 
salon." 

"What's  that!  Birotteau,  you  are,  then,  in  a  fair 
way  of  losing  your  reason?     Are  you  dreaming?" 

"No,  wife,  1  am  calculating." 


IN  HIS  GLORY  13 

"You  should  by  all  means  wait  at  least  till  day- 
light before  indulging  in  your  nonsense,"  she  ex- 
claimed as  she  fastened  her  petticoat  under  her 
bodice  before  going  to  open  the  door  of  the  room  in 
which  her  daughter  was  sleeping. 

"Cesarine  is  asleep,"  said  she,  "she  will  not  hear 
us.  Well,  Birotteau,  go  on,  then.  What  is  the 
matter  with  you?" 

"We  can  give  the  ball." 

"Give  a  ball!  we?  On  my  honor  as  an  honest 
woman,  you  are  dreaming,  my  dear." 

"lam  not  dreaming,  my  pretty  honest  wench. 
Listen,  we  should  always  do  as  required  by  the 
position  in  which  we  are  placed.  The  government 
has  made  me  prominent,  I  belong  to  the  Government; 
it  is  our  duty  to  study  its  motive  and  to  favor  its 
intentions  by  developing  them.  The  Due  de  Riche- 
lieu has  just  brought  the  occupation  of  France  to  an 
end.  According  to  Monsieur  de  la  Billardiere,  the 
office-holders  representing  the  city  of  Paris  ought  to 
take  it  upon  themselves  as  a  duty,  each  in  the  sphere 
of  his  influence,  to  celebrate  the  liberation  of  the 
territory.  Let  us  give  evidence  of  a  real  patriotism 
which  will  shame  that  of  the  so-called  Liberals,  those 
intriguing  villains,  eh?  Think  you  that  I  do  not 
love  my  country?  I  want  to  show  the  Liberals,  my 
enemies,  that  to  love  the  King  is  to  love  France!" 

"You  think  you  have  enemies,  then,  my  poor 
Birotteau?" 

"Yes,  indeed,  wife,  we  have  enemies.  And  half 
of  our  friends  in  the  quartier  are  our  enemies.     They 


14  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

all  say:  Birotteau  is  in  luck,  for  though  Birotteau  is 
a  nobody,  yet  see  him  made  mayor's  deputy;  every- 
thing succeeds  with  him.  Well,  they  are  going  to 
be  neatly  outwitted  once  more.  Be  the  first  to 
learn  that  I  am  a  Chevalier  of  the  Legion  of  Honor; 
the  King  signed  the  commission  yesterday." 

"Oh!  then,"  said  Madame  Birotteau  with  con- 
siderable emotion,  "we  must  give  the  ball,  sweet- 
heart. But  how  have  you  so  distinguished  yourself 
as  to  obtain  the  cross?" 

"When  Monsieur  de  la  Billardi^re  told  me  this 
news  yesterday,"  Birotteau  continued  with  embar- 
rassment, "  I  also  asked  myself,  as  you  do,  what  my 
claim  was;  but,  on  my  return,  I  came  to  recognize 
it  and  approve  of  the  Government's  course.  In  the 
first  place,  I  am  a  Royalist,  I  was  wounded  at  Saint- 
Roch  in  Vendemiaire;  isn't  it  something  to  have 
borne  arms  at  that  time  for  the  good  cause?  Then, 
as  I  have  heard  from  merchants,  I  gave  general 
satisfaction  as  a  member  of  the  consular  judiciary. 
Lastly,  I  am  deputy  mayor,  and  the  King  bestows 
four  crosses  on  the  municipal  body  of  the  city  of 
Paris.  After  having  investigated  as  to  the  persons 
who  ought  to  be  decorated  from  among  the  deputies, 
the  Prefect  put  me  first  on  the  list.  Moreover,  it 
must  be  that  the  King  knows  of  me;  thanks  to  old 
Ragon,  I  supply  him  with  the  only  powder  that  he 
deigns  to  use;  we  alone  have  the  recipe  for  that 
used  by  the  late  queen,  poor,  dear,  august  victim! 
The  mayor  gave  me  very  strong  backing.  What 
else  would  you  have  me  do!     If  the  King  gives  me 


IN   HIS  GLORY  15 

the  cross  without  me  asking  him  for  it,  it  seems  to 
me  that  I  cannot  refuse  without  slighting  him,  no 
matter  how  you  looi<  at  it.  Did  1  want  to  be  deputy? 
And  so,  wife,  since  we  have  the  wind  blowing  our 
way,  as  your  uncle  Pillerault  says  when  he  is  in  a 
jolly  mood,  I  have  decided  to  have  everything  in  our 
house  in  accord  with  the  high  honor  done  us.  if  I 
can  be  anything,  I  will  risk  becoming  whatever  it  be 
God's  will  to  make  me,  sub-prefect,  if  such  be  my 
luck.  Wife,  you  make  a  great  mistake  if  you  think 
that  a  citizen  has  paid  his  debt  to  his  country  by 
having  spent  twenty  years  selling  perfumery  to 
those  who  have  come  to  get  it.  If  the  State  claims 
the  aid  of  our  ability,  we  owe  it  this,  as  we  owe  it 
the  tax  on  furniture,  doors,  windows,  etc.  Do  you 
wish,  then,  to  be  always  in  the  counting-house  ?  You 
have,  thank  God,  been  there  quite  long  enough.  The 
ball  will  be  our  own  festival.  Farewell  to  retail,  as 
far  as  you  are  concerned.  You  understand.  I  will 
burn  our  La  Revie  des  Roses  sign,  I  will  erase  from 
our  board  CESAR  BiROTTEAU,  DEALER  IN  PERFUMES, 

Successor  to  Ragon,  and  substitute  Perfumery 
merely,  in  large  gold  letters.  In  the  entresol  I  will 
put  the  office,  the  cash-box,  and  a  pretty  private 
office  for  your  own  use.  Out  of  the  shop  back-room 
and  the  present  dining-room  and  kitchen,  I  will  make 
my  warehouse,  I  will  rent  the  second  floor  of  the 
adjoining  house,  and  will  open  a  door  in  the  wall.  I 
will  turn  the  staircase  around,  so  as  to  be  able  to  go 
on  a  level  from  one  house  to  the  other.  We  will 
then   have   spacious   apartments   furnished  in  fine 


l6  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

style!  Yes,  and  I  will  remodel  your  room,  will  pro- 
vide a  boudoir  for  you,  and  have  a  pretty  room  for 
Cesarine.  The  cash-girl  whom  you  will  have,  our 
chief  clerk  and  your  chamber-maid — yes,  madame, 
you  will  have  one! — will  have  their  lodgings  on  the 
third  floor.  On  the  fourth  will  be  the  kitchen,  the 
cook  and  the  general  utility  boy.  The  fifth  will  be 
our  place  of  general  storage  for  bottles,  crystal  and 
porcelain.  The  operating-room  for  our  work-girls  in 
the  garret!  No  longer  will  the  public  see  them 
pasting  labels,  making  bags,  assorting  flasks,  and 
corking  vials.  Good  enough  for  the  Rue  Saint- 
Denis;  but,  as  for  the  Rue  Saint-Honore,  oh,  fie! 
bad  form.  Our  warehouse  must  be  finished  like  a 
parlor.  Tell  me,  are  we  the  only  perfumers  who 
have  been  honored?  Are  not  vinegar  dealers,  mus- 
tard venders,  in  command  of  the  National  Guard, 
and  are  they  not  in  some  favor  at  the  Castle?  Let 
us  imitate  them,  let  us  extend  our  trade,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  let  us  force  our  way  into  higher  society." 
"Hold  up,  Birotteau;  do  you  know  what  I  have 
been  thinking  while  listening  to  you?  Well,  you 
remind  me  of  a  man  looking  for  noonday  at  two 
o'clock.  Remember  the  advice  I  gave  you  when 
the  question  came  up  of  making  you  mayor:  your 
peace  in  preference  to  all  else!  '  You  are  as  fit  to 
be  prominent,'  I  said  to  you,  *as  my  arm  is  to  make 
a  windmill  fan.  Greatness  would  prove  your  ruin.' 
You  wouldn't  listen  to  me;  now,  here  is  that  ruin  at 
hand.  To  play  a  part  in  politics,  money  is  neces- 
sary;   have  we  got  it?     What?    You  would  burn 


IN  HIS  GLORY  \^ 

your  sign  that  cost  us  six  liundred  francs,  and  give 
up  La  Reine  des  Roses,  your  real  glory?  Leave  it  to 
others,  then,  to  be  ambitious.  Isn't  it  true  that  he 
who  thrusts  his  hand  into  the  fire  feels  the  burning? 
Politics  is  now  aflame.  We  have  fully  a  hundred 
thousand  francs  in  cash,  invested  outside  of  our 
business,  of  our  factory,  and  of  our  stock?  If  you 
would  enhance  your  fortune,  do  now  as  you  did  in 
1793;  the  funds  are  selling  for  seventy -two  francs, 
buy  them  and  you  will  have  ten  thousand  francs 
revenue,  without  this  investment  hampering  our 
business.  Take  advantage  of  this  tack  to  get  our 
daughter  married,  sell  our  business  and  let  us  go  to 
your  country.  What!  For  fifteen  years  you  have 
been  solely  bent  on  buying  Les  Tresorieres,  that 
pretty  little  property  near  Chinon,  where  there  are 
ponds,  meadows,  woods,  vineyards,  farms,  bringing 
three  thousand  francs,  the  dwelling-house  on  which 
pleases  us  both,  which  we  can  still  have  for  sixty 
thousand  francs,  and  now  the  gentleman  wishes  to 
become  something  under  the  Government?  But 
remember  what  we  are,  mere  perfumers.  Sixteen 
years  ago,  before  you  had  invented  the  Sultana 
Double  Paste  and  the  Carminative  Water,  if  any  one 
had  come  and  said  to  you:  'You  are  going  to  have 
enough  money  to  buy  Les  Tresorieres, '  wouldn't  you 
have  been  overcome  with  joy?  Well,  you  can  pur- 
chase that  property,  which  you  coveted  so  much 
that  you  could  speak  of  nothing  else;  now  you  talk 
of  expending  on  stupid  whims  money  earned  by  the 
sweat  of  our  brow,  I  can  say  our,  for  I  have  always 


l8  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

been  constant  in  attendance  at  that  desk  at  all  times 
as  a  poor  dog  in  its  kennel.  Isn't  it  better  to  have  a 
foothold  with  your  daughter  after  she  shall  have 
become  the  wife  of  a  Paris  notary,  and  live  eight 
months  of  the  year  at  Chinon,  than  to  begin  here 
to  put  down  five  sous  and  draw  six  blanks,  and  out 
of  the  six  blanks  make  nothing?  Wait  for  a  rise  in 
the  stock  market;  you  will  be  able  to  settle  eight 
thousand  francs  a  year  on  your  daughter,  and  we 
will  have  two  thousand  for  ourselves,  and  the  price 
of  our  property  will  enable  us  to  have  Les  Tresor- 
ieres.  There,  in  your  own  country,  my  dear  little 
pet,  by  taking  our  furniture  with  us,  and  it  is  worth 
something,  we  can  live  in  princely  style,  whilst  here 
at  least  a  million  would  be  needed  to  cut  a  figure." 
**  That,  wife,  is  just  what  I  expected  you  would 
say,"  said  Cesar  Birotteau.  "  I  am  not  quite  so 
stupid — though  you  think  me  very  stupid,  yes, 
you! — as  not  to  have  reasoned  everything  over. 
Pay  attention  to  what  I  say.  Alexandre  Crottat  fits 
us  like  a  glove  for  a  son-in-law,  and  he  will  have 
Roguin's  office;  but  do  you  think  he  will  be  satisfied 
with  a  hundred  thousand  francs  dowry — supposing 
that  we  would  settle  all  the  spare  cash  we  have  on 
our  daughter,  and  that  is  my  wish;  I  would  prefer  to 
have  only  dry  bread  for  the  rest  of  my  days,  so  1 
should  see  her  happy  as  a  queen,  the  wife,  in  fine, 
of  a  Paris  notary,  as  you  say.  Well,  a  hundred 
thousand  francs  or  even  eight  thousand  francs  in 
annuities  is  nothing  toward  buying  Roguin's  prac- 
tice.    That  little  Xandrot,  as  we  call  him,  thinks,  as 


IN  HIS  GLORY  19 

does  everybody,  that  we  are  much  richer  than  we 
are.  If  his  father,  that  big  farmer  who  is  as  ava- 
ricious as  a  snail,  does  not  sell  a  hundred  thousand 
francs'  worth  of  land,  Xandrot  will  not  be  notary, 
for  the  Roguin  office  is  worth  four  or  five  hundred 
thousand  francs.  If  Crottat  does  not  give  half  of 
it  in  cash,  how  could  he  manage  it?  Cesarine  ought 
to  have  a  dowry  of  two  hundred  thousand  francs; 
and  I  mean  that  we  shall  retire  as  respectable  citizens 
of  Paris  with  fifteen  thousand  francs  income.  Well! 
If  I  were  to  make  it  as  clear  as  daylight  to  you, 
wouldn't  that  shut  your  mouth?" 

"Ah!  if  you  own  Peru — " 

"Yes,  I  do,  my  wench.  Yes,"  he  said,  putting 
his  arm  around  his  wife's  waist  and  patting  her, 
moved  by  a  joy  that  completely  lit  up  his  features. 
"I  did  not  want  to  speak  to  you  of  this  matter  before 
it  was  matured;  but,  faith,  to-morrow,  I  will  close 
it,  perhaps.  Here  it  is:  Roguin  has  proposed  to  me 
a  speculation  so  safe  that  he  has  entered  into  it 
along  with  Ragon,  your  uncle  Pillerault  and  two 
other  clients  of  his.  We  are  going  to  purchase,  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  Madeleine,  land  that,  ac- 
cording to  Roguin's  calculations,  we  will  get  for  one 
quarter  the  price  that  it  must  reach  three  years  from 
now,  the  time  when,  the  leases  having  expired,  it 
will  come  our  turn  to  do  as  we  please  with  it.  All 
six  of  us  have  agreed  on  our  respective  shares  in  it. 
I  put  up  three  hundred  thousand  francs,  so  as  to 
have  a  three-eighths  interest.  If  any  one  of  us  needs 
money,  Roguin  will  furnish  it  on  the  mortgage  of 


20  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

his  share  by  way  of  mortgage.  So  as  to  hold  the 
pan-handle  and  know  how  the  fish  is  frying,  I  want 
to  be  nominal  owner  for  the  half  that  will  be  common 
to  Pillerault,  honest  Ragon  and  myself.  Roguin, 
using  the  name  of  a  certain  Monsieur  Charles  Cla- 
paron,  will  be  my  co-owner,  and  he,  as  well  as  I,  will 
give  a  counter-deed  to  his  partners.  The  title  is  ac- 
quired by  promise  of  sale  under  private  seal,  so  as  to 
make  us  masters  of  all  the  land.  Roguin  will  make 
searches  as  to  what  contracts  are  to  be  realized,  for  he 
is  not  sure  that  we  can  dispense  with  recording  and 
throw  the  burden  of  it  on  those  to  whom  we  will  sell 
in  lots,  but  it  would  take  me  too  long  to  explain  this 
point  to  you.  The  land  once  paid  for,  we  will  only 
have  to  fold  our  arms,  and  in  three  years  hence  we 
will  be  worth  a  million.  Cesarine  will  be  twenty,  our 
business  will  be  sold,  and  we  will  then  be,  with  God's 
help,  unostentatiously  on  the  high  road  to  greatness." 

"Well,  where  do  you  think  you  will  get  your 
three  hundred  thousand  francs?"  asked  Madame 
Birotteau. 

"You  understand  nothing  about  business  matters, 
my  darling  pet.  I  will  give  the  hundred  thousand 
francs  that  are  at  Roguin's,  I  will  borrow  forty 
thousand  francs  on  the  buildings  and  grounds  of  my 
factory  in  the  Faubourg  du  Temple,  and  we  have 
twenty  thousand  francs  on  hand;  in  all,  a  hundred 
and  sixty  thousand  francs.  There  remains  a  hun- 
dred and  forty  thousand  more,  for  which  I  will  make 
out  notes  to  the  order  of  Monsieur  Charles  Claparon, 
banker;  and  he  will  give  their  face  value  less  the 


IN  HIS  GLORY  21 

discount.  There  are  our  hundred  thousand  crowns 
paid:  he  who  is  to  pay  at  a  stated  tifne  owes  nothing. 
When  the  notes  fall  due  we  will  take  them  up  with 
our  profits.  If  we  cannot  meet  them  when  they 
fall  due,  Roguin  will  advance  me  money  at  five  per 
cent  secured  by  my  interest  in  the  land.  But  loans 
will  not  be  needed:  I  have  discovered  an  essence  to 
make  the  hair  grow,  a  Comagenous  oil!  Livingston 
is  setting  up  a  hydraulic  press  for  me  down  there 
with  which  to  manufacture  my  oil  from  hazel  nuts 
that,  under  this  strong  pressure,  will  at  once  yield 
all  their  oil.  In  a  year,  according  to  my  calculations, 
1  shall  have  made  a  hundred  thousand  francs,  at 
least.  I  am  thinking  out  a  poster  that  will  begin, 
Down  with  wigs!  the  effect  of  which  will  be  pro- 
digious. And  as  for  you,  you  seem  to  have  taken 
no  notice  of  my  loss  of  sleep!  For  three  whole 
months  the  success  of  Macassar  Oil  has  kept  me 
awake.     I  mean  to  down  Macassar!" 

"These,  then,  are  the  fine  plans  with  which  your 
noddle  has  been  filled  during  the  past  two  months, 
and  you  didn't  want  to  say  a  word  to  me  about 
them.  I  have  just  seen  myself  a  beggar  at  my  own 
door,  what  a  warning  from  Heaven!  In  a  short  time 
we  will  have  nothing  but  eyes  to  weep  with. 
Never  will  you  do  that,  at  least  while  I  am  alive, 
understand,  Cesar!  Behind  this  are  some  tricks  that 
you  do  not  observe,  you  are  too  honest  and  too 
honorable  to  suspect  dishonesty  in  others.  Why  do 
they  come  to  offer  you  millions?  You  will  dispose 
of  all  you  are  worth,  you  will  go  beyond  your  means, 


22  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

and  if  your  oil  does  not  take,  if  no  money  is  to  be 
had,  if  the  land  does  not  realize  its  price,  how  will 
you  meet  your  notes?  Is  it  with  the  shells  of  your 
hazel  nuts?  To  gain  a  higher  place  in  society,  you 
no  longer  want  your  name  displayed,  you  would 
remove  the  la  Reine  des  Roses  sign,  and  you  are 
farthermore  going  to  bow  and  scrape  in  placards  and 
prospectuses  that  will  display  Cesar  Birotteau  on 
every  deadwall  and  every  board  fence,  at  every 
place  where  building  is  going  on." 

"Oh!  you  don't  see  into  it.  I  will  have  a  branch 
shop  under  the  name  of  Popinot,  in  some  house  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  Rue  des  Lombards,  where  I 
will  put  little  Anselm.  Thus  I  will  pay  the  debt  of 
gratitude  to  Monsieur  and  Madame  Ragon,  by 
giving  their  nephew  a  start,  and  he  will  be  put  in 
the  way  of  making  a  fortune.  These  poor  Ragon 
folks  seem  to  me  to  have  been  hard  pressed  for  some 
time  past." 

"Beware!  Those  folks  want  your  money." 
"What  folks  darling?  Is  it  your  uncle  Pillerault, 
who  loves  us  as  much  as  he  could  his  own  flesh  and 
blood  and  dines  with  us  every  Sunday?  Is  it  that 
good  old  Ragon,  our  predecessor,  with  his  forty  years 
of  probity,  with  whom  we  play  boston?  And  last, 
could  it  be  Roguin,  a  Paris  notary,  a  man  fifty -seven 
years  old,  who  has  served  as  notary  for  twenty -five? 
A  Paris  notary,  he  would  be  the  pick  of  them,  were 
not  all  honest  men  to  be  held  in  the  same  esteem. 
Were  it  necessary,  my  partners  would  assist  me! 
Where,  then,  is  the  plot,  my  fair  dame?     Well,  I 


IN"  HIS  GLORY  23 

must  tell  you  what  I  think  of  you!     On  my  word  as 
an  honest   man,  I  have   your  character  by  heart. 
You    have   always   been  as   distrustful   as   a  cat  I 
Whenever  we  have  had  a  couple  of  sous  we  could 
call  our  own  on  hand,  you  imagined  every  customer 
was  a  thief.     It  is  necessary  to  fall  on  one's  knees  to 
entreat  you  to  allow  yourself  to  grow  rich!     Parisian 
though  you  be,  yet  you  have  hardly  any  ambition! 
Were  it  not  for  your  everlasting  fears,  there  would  be 
no  man  happier  than  I  !     If  I  had  listened  to  you  I 
would  never  have  made  either  the  Sultanas  Paste  or 
the  Carminative  Water.     Our  shop  has  given  us  a 
living,  but  these  two  discoveries  and  our  soaps  have 
brought  us  the  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  francs 
that  we  now  have  clear!     Without  my  genius,  for 
1  have  great  ability  as  a  perfumer,  we  would  be  but 
small  retailers,  we  would  have  to  take  the  Devil  by 
the  tail  to  make  both  ends  meet,  and  I  would  not  have 
been  one  of  the  prominent  merchants  running  for 
election  as  judge  of  the  tribunal  of   commerce,  I 
would  have  been  neither  judge  nor  mayor's  deputy. 
Do   you  know  what  I  would   be?     A  shop-keeper 
such  as  old  man  Ragon  was,  and  I  do  not  mean  to 
disparage  him,  for  I  respect  shops,  as  some  of  the 
best  people  of  our  set  have  come  from  them!     After 
having  sold  perfumery  for  forty  years,  we,  like  him, 
would  have  about  three  thousand  francs  income;  and, 
as  prices  are  now,  cost  being  doubled,  we  would, 
like  them,  have  scarcely  enough  to  live  on. — From 
day  to  day  that  old  way  we  have  been  living  weighs 
ever  more  heavily  upon  my  heart.     I  must  see  my 


24  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

way  clear  out  of  it,  and  I  will  get  the  cue  through 
Popinot,  to-morrow! — If  I  had  followed  your  advice, 
you  who  delight  in  being  uneasy  and  ask  your- 
self whether  you  will  have  to-morrow  what  you 
possess  to-day,  I  would  have  no  credit,  I  would  not 
have  the  Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  and  I  would 
not  be  on  the  way  to  becoming  somebody  in  politics. 
Yes,  you  may  well  shake  your  head,  if  our  scheme 
succeeds,  I  may  become  a  Deputy  for  Paris.  Ha! 
my  name  is  not  Cesar  for  nothing,  for  with  me 
everything  has  succeeded.  Nor  is  it  imagination,  for 
every  one  I  meet  away  from  here  acknowledges  my 
ability;  but  here,  the  only  person  whom  I  wish  to 
please  so  much,  for  whom  I  sweat  blood  and  water 
to  make  her  happy,  is  precisely  she  who  takes  me 
for  a  blockhead!" 

These  phrases,  though  interrupted  by  eloquent 
pauses,  and  shot  off  like  balls,  as  is  done  by  all  who 
pose  in  an  attitude  of  reproach,  expressed  an  attach- 
ment so  deep,  so  sustained,  that  Madame  Birotteau's 
heart  was  touched;  but,  like  all  women,  she  used 
the  love  that  she  inspired  to  win  her  case. 

"Very  well,  Birotteau,"  she  said,  "if  you  love 
me,  let  me  then  be  happy  in  my  own  way.  Neither 
you  nor  I  received  much  education;  we  do  not  know 
how  to  talk,  nor  to  doyour  servant  after  the  manner 
of  people  of  the  world;  how  do  you  think  we  would 
succeed  in  Government  circles?  I  would  be  happy 
at  Les  Tresori^res,  indeed  I  would!  I  have  always 
loved  animals  and  little  birds,  I  could  very  well 
spend  my  life  in  taking  care  of  the  chickens,  in 


IN    HIS    GLORY  25 

playing  the  farmer's  wife.  Let  us  sell  our  business, 
marry  Cesarine,  and  let  you  give  up  your  Imogene. 
We  will  come  to  spend  the  winters  in  Paris,  with 
our  son-in-law;  we  will  be  happy.  Nothing  either 
in  politics  or  in  trade  will  be  able  to  change  our 
nature.  Why  should  we  wish  to  lord  it  over  others? 
Does  not  our  present  fortune  suffice  for  us?  When 
you  will  be  a  millionaire,  will  you  dine  twice?  Do 
you  want  another  wife  than  me?  See  my  uncle 
Pillerault!  he  is  wisely  satisfied  with  his  little  means, 
and  his  life  is  spent  in  doing  good  works.  Does 
he  need  fine  furniture,  he?  I  am  sure  that  you 
have  ordered  the  new  furniture  for  me:  I  have 
seen  Braschon  here,  and  it  was  not  to  buy  per- 
fumery." 

"Well,  yes,  darling,  the  furniture  is  ordered,  our 
work  is  to  be  begun  to-morrow  and  will  be  directed 
by  an  architect  recommended  to  me  by  Monsieur  de 
la  Billardiere." 

"O  God,"  she  exclaimed,  "have  pity  on  us!" 
"  But,  sweet  wench,  you  are  not  reasonable.  Is 
it  at  thirty-seven,  fresh  and  pretty  as  you  are,  that 
you  could  go  and  bury  yourself  at  Chinon?  I,  thank 
God,  am  only  thirty-nine.  Chance  opens  a  fine 
career  for  me,  and  I  am  entering  upon  it.  If  I  con- 
duct myself  prudently,  I  can  establish  an  honorable 
house  in  the  Paris  middle  class,  as  used  to  be  done 
formerly,  found  the  Birotteaus,  as  there  are  Kellers, 
Jules  Desmarets,  Roguins,  Cochins,  Guillaumes, 
Lebas,  Nucingens,  Saillards,  Popinots,  Matifats,  who 
are  making  or  have  made    a    mark    in  their  own 


26  CESAR    BIROTTEAU 

fields.  On,  then!  If  that  affair  were  not  as  safe  as 
gold  bars — " 

"Safe!" 

"Yes,  safe.  I  have  been  figuring  it  out  for  two 
months  past.  Without  seeming  interested,  1  have 
been  picking  up  information  about  building,  at  the 
city  office,  from  architects  and  contractors.  Mon- 
sieur Grindot,  the  young  architect  who  is  going  to 
remodel  our  apartments,  is  extremely  sorry  he  has 
no  money  to  invest  in  our  speculation." 

"There  will  be  building  to  do;  he  is  driving  you 
to  it  in  order  to  squeeze  you." 

"Can  one  trap  people  like  Pillerault,  Charles 
Claparon,  and  Roguin.?  The  profit  is  as  sure  as  that 
of  the  Sultana  Paste,  do  you  seel" 

"  But,  my  dear  love,  why,  then,  does  Roguin 
need  to  speculate,  if  he  has  his  way  paid  and  his 
fortune  made?  I  see  him  passing  sometimes  more 
anxious-looking  than  a  minister  of  State,  with  a 
downcast  look  that  1  do  not  like:  he  has  some  secret 
trouble.  Within  the  last  five  years  his  figure  has 
become  that  of  an  old  rake.  Who  tells  you  that  he 
will  not  take  to  his  heels  when  he  gets  your  money? 
Such  a  thing  is  known  to  have  happened.  Do  we 
know  very  much  about  him?  It  is  all  very  well  for 
him  to  have  been  our  friend  for  the  last  fifteen 
years,  yet  I  would  not  put  my  hand  in  the  fire  for 
him.  Look  out,  he  is  tainted  and  does  not  live  with 
his  wife,  he  may  have  mistresses  to  support  who 
are  ruining  him;  I  can  think  of  no  other  reason  for 
his  dejected  mien.     While  making  my  toilet  I  look 


IN  HIS  GLORY  27 

through  the  blinds,  and  I  see  him  coming  home  on 
foot,  in  the  morning,  returning  whence?  Nobody 
knows.  He  gives  me  the  impression  of  a  man  who  has 
an  establishment  in  town  who  lives  as  he  pleases,  and 
madame  the  same,  is  that  the  way  for  a  notary  to 
live?  If  they  have  fifty  thousand  francs  and  spend 
sixty,  in  twenty  years  one  sees  the  end  of  one's 
means,  one  finds  one's  self  as  destitute  as  little 
foundlings;  but  as  one  is  accustomed  to  shine, 
one  pitilessly  robs  one's  friends:  well-ordered  charity 
begins  at  home.  He  is  intimate  with  that  little 
scamp,  Du  Tillet,  our  former  clerk,  and  I  do  not 
think  well  of  this  friendship.  If  he  has  not  learned 
how  to  judge  Du  Tillet,  he  is  blind  indeed;  if  he 
knows  him,  why  does  he  make  so  much  of  him? 
You  will  tell  me  that  his  wife  loves  Du  Tillet?  Well, 
I  do  not  expect  anything  good  from  a  man  who  has 
no  honor  in  regard  to  his  wife.  In  fine,  the  present 
owners  of  this  land  are  dunces  indeed  to  give  for  a 
hundred  sous  what  is  worth  a  hundred  francs.  If 
you  met  a  child  who  did  not  know  what  a  louis  is 
worth,  wouldn't  you  tell  him  its  value?  This  business 
gives  me  the  impression  of  being  a  theft,  yes,  to  my 
view,  and  I  say  it  without  intending  to  offend  you." 
"  Lord,  how  funny  women  sometimes  are,  and 
how  they  mix  up  all  sorts  of  ideas!  If  Roguin 
counted  for  nothing  in  the  matter,  you  would  say  to 
me,  '  Beware,  take  care,  Cesar,  you  are  doing  some- 
thing that  Roguin  has  no  hand  in;  it  isn't  worth 
anything.'  On  this  occasion  he  is  in  it  as  a  guar- 
antee, and  you  tell  me — " 


28  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

"  No,  it  is  a  Monsieur  Ciaparon." 

"  But  a  notary  cannot  allow  his  name  to  be  used 
in  a  speculation." 

"  Why,  then,  does  he  do  a  thing  that  the  law  for- 
bids him  to  do?  What  answer  will  you  make  me, 
you  who  know  only  the  law?" 

"Let  me  continue,  then.  Roguin  has  entered 
into  it,  and  you  tell  me  that  the  affair  does  not 
amount  to  anything!  Is  it  reasonable?  You  tell 
me  further:  '  He  is  doing  a  thing  that  is  against  the 
law.'  But  he  will  go  into  it  openly,  if  necessary. 
You  tell  me  now:  '  He  is  rich.'  Cannot  anyone  tell 
me  as  much?  Would  Ragon  and  Pillerault  be  wel- 
come to  tell  me:  '  Why  are  you  doing  this  thing, 
you  who  have  as  much  money  as  a  hog-dealer?'  " 

"  Those  in  trade  are  not  in  the  position  of  notaries," 
objected  Madame  Birotteau. 

"At  any  rate,  my  conscience  is  quite  clear,"  said 
Cesar,  continuing.  "Those  who  are  selling  are 
compelled  to  sell;  we  are  no  more  robbing  them  than 
one  robs  those  of  whom  he  buys  funds  at  seventy- 
five.  To-day  we  get  the  land  at  its  present  price; 
two  years  hence  it  will  be  different,  just  as  in  the 
case  of  the  funds.  Know,  then,  Constance-Barbe- 
Josephine  Pillerault,  that  you  will  never  catch 
Cesar  Birotteau  doing  an  act  that  is  against  the 
strictest  honesty,  or  against  the  law,  or  against  con- 
science, or  against  delicacy.  A  man  established  for 
eighteen  years  to  be  suspected  of  dishonesty  in  his 
own  household!" 

"Come,  now,  keep  cool,  Cesar!     A  woman  who 


IN  HIS  GLORY  29 

has  lived  with  you  ail  this  time  knows  you  to  the 
very  depths  of  your  soul.  You  are  master,  after  all. 
It  is  you  who  have  made  this  fortune,  isn't  it?  It  is 
yours,  you  can  spend  it.  Were  we  reduced  to  the 
last  extremity  of  misery,  neither  I  nor  your  daughter 
would  ever  reproach  you  even  once.  But  listen: 
When  you  invented  your  Sultana  Paste  and  your 
Carminative  Water,  what  did  you  risk?  Five  or  six 
thousand  francs.  Now  you  stake  all  your  fortune 
on  a  single  shuffle  of  the  cards,  you  are  not  alone  in 
the  game,  you  have  associates  who  may  prove 
themselves  sharper  than  you.  Give  your  ball, 
renovate  your  apartments,  go  to  an  expense  of  ten 
thousand  francs,  that  is  useless,  but  it  is  not  ruinous. 
As  regards  your. Madeleine  affair,  I  give  it  my  formal 
disapproval.  You  are  a  perfumer,  be  a  perfumer, 
and  not  a  speculator  in  land.  We  have  an  instinct 
that  never  deceives  us,  we  women  have!  I  have 
warned  you,  now  act  according  to  your  judgment. 
You  have  been  judge  in  the  tribunal  of  commerce, 
you  know  the  laws,  you  have  steered  your  bark 
well,  I  will  follow  you,  Cesar!  But  it  will  be  with 
trepidation  until  I  see  our  fortune  solidly  established 
and  Cesarine  well  married.  God  grant  that  my 
dream  be  not  a  prophecy!" 

This  yielding  disconcerted  Birotteau,  who  used 
the  innocent  dodge  to  which  he  was  wont  to  have 
recourse  on  such  occasions. 

"Listen,  Constance,  I  have  not  yet  given  my 
word,  but  it  is  as  good  as  given." 

"Oh!  Cesar,  you  have  said  all  there  is  to  say 


30  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

about  it,  do  not  speak  of  it  any  more.  Honor 
goes  before  fortune.  Come,  go  to  bed,  my  dear, 
we  have  no  more  wood.  Moreover,  we  will  be 
better  fixed  in  bed  for  chatting,  if  that  amuses  you 
— Oh!  that  vile  dream!  My  God!  To  see  one's 
self!  but  it  is  frightful. — Cesarine  and  I  are  going 
in  earnest  to  make  novenas  for  the  success  of  your 
land  scheme." 

"Certainly  God's  assistance  will  do  no  harm," 
gravely  remarked  Birotteau;  "  but,  wife,  hazel-nut 
essence  is  also  a  power!  I  have  made  this  discovery, 
as  formerly  that  of  the  Sultana  Double  Paste,  by 
chance:  on  the  former  occasion  on  opening  a  book, 
this  time  while  looking  at  the  engraving  of  Hero  and 
Leander.  For  a  woman  to  pour  oil  on  her  lover's 
head — is  it  pretty.?  The  safest  speculations  are 
those  based  on  vanity,  on  self-love,  the  desire  to 
make  a  good  appearance.  Those  are  feelings  that 
never  die." 

"Alas!  I  see  it  clearly." 

"At  a  certain  age  men  would  try  a  hundred  things 
to  have  hair  when  they  have  none.  For  some  time 
past  hair-dressers  have  told  me  that  they  are  selling 
not  only  Macassar,  but  all  the  drugs  that  are  good 
for  dyeing  the  hair,  or  that  are  supposed  to  make  it 
grow.  Since  peace  was  restored  men  have  been 
associating  a  great  deal  more  with  women,  and  the 
latter  do  not  like  the  bald-headed,  hey!  hey!  mine 
own!  The  demand  for  that  article  is  explained, 
then,  by  the  political  situation.  A  compound  that 
would   keep  the  hair  in  a  good  healthy  condition 


IN  HIS  GLORY  31 

would  sell  like  bread,  especially  if  this  essence  were 
undoubtedly  approved  by  the  Academy  of  Science. 
My  good  Monsieur  Vauquelin  will  perhaps  help  me 
out  once  more.  I  will  go  to-morrow  and  submit  my 
idea  to  him,  offering  him  the  engraving  which  1  have 
succeeded  in  finding  after  a  two  years'  search  in 
Germany.  He  is  giving  attention  just  now  to  the 
analysis  of  the  hair.  Chiffreville,  his  partner  in  the 
manufacture  of  chemical  products,  has  told  me  so. 
If  my  discovery  agrees  with  his  researches,  my 
essence  would  be  bought  by  both  sexes.  My  idea, 
I  repeat,  is  a  fortune.  My  God!  1  do  not  sleep  on 
account  of  it.  Hh!  fortunately  little  Popinot  has  the 
finest  head  of  hair  in  the  world.  With  a  shop-girl 
who  would  have  long  hair  falling  to  the  ground  and 
who  would  say,  if  the  thing  is  possible  without 
offending  God  or  one's  neighbor,  that  the  Comagenoiis 
Oil — for  it  will  be  decidedly  an  oil — has  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  it,  the  gray-heads  would  pounce 
upon  it  as  does  poverty  on  the  world.  Tell  me, 
then,  my  little  woman,  what  of  your  ball?  I  am  not 
up  to  mischief,  but  I  would  like  to  meet  that  funny 
little  Du  Tillet,  who  does  the  grand  with  his  for- 
tune, and  who  always  shuns  me  at  the  Bourse.  He 
knows  that  I  am  acquainted  with  one  of  his  character- 
istics that  is  not  a  thing  to  boast  of.  Perhaps  1  have 
been  too  lenient  with  him.  Is  not  it  odd,  wife,  that 
one  is  always  punished  for  his  good  deeds,  here 
below,  understand!  I  have  acted  as  a  father  toward 
him,  you  do  not  know  all  that  I  have  done  for  him." 
"You  make  my  flesh  creep,  merely  speaking  of 


32  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

him.  If  you  had  known  all  that  he  had  wanted  to 
do  to  you,  you  wouldn't  have  kept  quiet  regarding 
the  theft  of  the  three  thousand  francs,  for  I  have 
suspected  how  the  affair  was  settled.  If  you  had 
brought  him  into  the  police  court,  perhaps  you  would 
have  done  a  service  to  quite  a  number  of  people." 

"What  advantage,  then,  did  he  mean  to  take  of 
me?" 

"Nothing.  If  you  were  in  a  mood  to  listen  to 
me  this  evening,  I  would  give  you  good  advice,  Bi- 
rotteau,  and  that  would  be  to  steer  clear  of  your 
Du  Tillet." 

"Wouldn't  people  think  it  strange  to  see  my  house 
closed  against  a  clerk  for  whom  1  went  security  for 
the  first  twenty  thousand  francs  with  which  he  set 
up  in  business?  Come,  let  us  return  good  for  good. 
Besides,  perhaps  Du  Tillet  has  mended  his  ways." 

"  Everything  will  have  to  be  put  topsy-turvy 
here!" 

"Why  topsy-turvy?  On  the  contrary,  every- 
thing will  be  as  orderly  as  a  music  sheet.  You 
have,  then,  already,  forgotten  what  I  have  just  told 
you  about  the  stairway  and  my  renting  part  of  the 
adjoining  house,  a  matter  that  1  have  arranged  with 
the  umbrella  dealer,  Cayron?  We  are  to  meet  to- 
morrow at  Monsieur  Molineux,  his  landlord's,  for 
to-morrow  I  have  as  much  to  attend  to  as  a  min- 
ister.—" 

"You  have  turned  my  head  with  your  plans," 
said  Constance  to  him,  "  I  am  mixing  myself  up  in 
them.     Moreover,  Birotteau,  I  am  sleepy." 


IN  HIS  GLORY  33 

"Good-day,"  her  husband  replied.  "But  listen: 
I  bid  you  good-day  because  it  is  morning,  sweet. 
Ah!  she  is  gone,  that  dear  child!  Go,  you  will  be 
very  rich,  or  my  name  should  not  be  Cesar." 

A  few  moments  later  Constance  and  Cesar  were 
snoring  peacefully. 


* 

A  rapid  glance  at  the  previous  life  of  this  house- 
hold will  confirm  the  impression  probably  made  by 
the  amicable  discussion  between  the  two  chief  actors 
in  this  Scene.  In  depicting  the  life  and  character  of 
these  retail  dealers,  this  sketch  will  explain,  more- 
over, by  what  singular  chances  Cesar  Birotteau 
came  to  be  mayor's  deputy  as  well  as  perfumer, 
former  officer  of  the  National  Guard  and  Knight  of 
the  Legion  of  Honor.  In  throwing  light  on  his  inner- 
most character  and  the  salient  points  of  his  pros- 
perity, we  may  understand  how  the  commercial 
accidents  that  are  surmounted  by  strong  tempera- 
ments become  irreparable  catastrophes  to  minds 
of  small  calibre.  Events  are  never  absolute,  their 
results  depend  entirely  on  the  individual:  misfortune 
is  a  stepping-stone  to  genius,  a  cleansing  to  the 
Christian,  a  treasure  to  the  shrewd  man,  an  abyss 
to  the  weak. 

A  gardener  in  the  neighborhood  of  Chinon,  whose 
name  was  Jacques  Birotteau,  married  the  chamber- 
maid of  a  lady  whose  vines  he  was  accustomed  to 
dress;  he  had  three  boys,  his  wife  died  in  giving 
birth  to  the  last,  and  the  poor  man  did  not  long  sur- 
vive her.  The  mistress  had  a  liking  for  her  cham- 
ber-maid: along  with  her  own  sons  she  brought  up 
the  eldest  of  her  gardener's  children,  whose  name 
was  Francois,  and  sent  him  to  a  seminary.  Ordained 
to   the    priesthood,    Francois    Birotteau    concealed 

(35) 


36  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

himself  during  the  Revolution  and  led  the  wandering 
life  of  the  unsworn  priests,  who  were  tracked  like 
wild  beasts,  and  guillotined  on  the  slightest  pretext. 
At  the  time  when  this  story  begins  he  was  a  curate 
at  the  Tours  cathedral,  and  had  left  this  city  only 
once  to  visit  his  brother  Cesar.  The  turmoil  of 
Paris  so  dazed  the  good  priest  that  he  dared  not 
leave  his  room;  he  called  the  cabs  half-hackneys,  and 
was  astonished  at  everything.  After  a  week's  so- 
journ he  returned  to  Tours,  promising  never  to  return 
to  the  capital. 

The  vine-dresser's  second  son,  Jean  Birotteau, 
having  been  drafted,  at  once  rose  to  the  rank  of 
captain  during  the  early  wars  of  the  Revolution. 
At  the  battle  of  Trebia,  Macdonald  asked  for  men 
not  afraid  to  attack  a  battery;  Captain  Jean  Birot- 
teau advanced  with  his  company,  and  was  killed. 
The  fates  of  the  Birotteaus  would  no  doubt  have  it 
that  they  should  be  crushed  by  men  or  by  circum- 
stances wherever  they  set  their  feet. 

The  last  child  is  the  hero  of  this  Scene.  When 
fourteen  years  old  Cesar  knew  how  to  read,  write 
and  figure.  He  left  the  country,  and  came  to  Paris 
on  foot  to  seek  his  fortune  with  a  louis  in  his  pocket. 
The  recommendation  of  a  Tours  apothecary  got  him 
a  position,  as  shop-boy,  with  Monsieur  and  Madame 
Ragon,  dealers  in  perfumes.  Cesar  then  owned  a 
pair  of  iron-tipped  shoes,  a  pair  of  breeches  and 
blue  stockings,  a  flowered  vest,  a  peasant's  coat, 
three  coarse  shirts  of  good  linen  and  his  traveling 
cudgel.     His  hair  was  cut  after  the  fashion  of  choir 


IN  HIS  GLORY  37 

boys,  he  had  the  solid  courage  of  the  Tourainer;  if 
he  sometimes  allowed  himself  to  fall  into  the  idle 
habits  in  vogue  in  the  country,  he  compensated  for 
it  by  the  desire  of  making  his  fortune;   if  he  was 
wanting  in  wit  and  education,  he  was  possessed  of 
an  instinctive  sense  of  right  and  of  the  delicate  feel- 
ings with  which  he  regarded  his  mother,  a  creature 
who,  as  the  Tourainers  express  it,  had  a  heart  of 
gold.      Cesar   had   his  meals,  six   francs  wages  a 
month,  and  slept  on  a  trundle-bed   in  the  garret, 
next  to  the  cook;  the  clerks,  who  taught  him  how 
to  put  up  packages  and  run  errands,  to  sweep  the 
shop  and   the  sidewalk,  poked   fun  at   him  while 
training  him  to  the  work,  as  is  the  manner  in  shops, 
where  pleasantry  enters  into  instruction  as  the  chief 
element;  Monsieur  and  Madame  Ragon  spoke  to  him 
as  they  would  to  a  dog.     No  one  cared  whether  the 
apprentice  was  tired  or  not,  though  in  the  evening 
his  feet  worn  out  by  the  pavement  made  him  suffer 
terribly  and  his  shoulders  were  sore.     This  rude 
application  of  every  one  for  himself,  the  gospel  of  all 
capitals,  made  Cesar  feel  life  in  Paris  very  severe. 
In  the  evening  he  wept  while  thinking  of  Touraine, 
where  the  peasant  works  as  he  pleases,  where  the 
mason  lays  a  stone  while  he  ought  to  lay  twelve, 
where  idleness  is  discreetly  combined  with  labor; 
but  he  fell  asleep  before  he  had  time  to  think  of 
fleeing,  for  he  had  a  routine  of  work  for  the  morning 
and  was  obedient  to  his  duty  with  the  instinct  of  a 
watch-dog.     If  perhaps   he  complained,  the   head 
clerk  smiled  with  a  jovial  air. 


1899G2 


38  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

"Ah!  my  boy,"  he  said,  "  everything  is  not  rosy 
at  la  Reine  des  Roses,  and  larks  do  not  fall  here 
already  toasted;  you  must  first  run  after  them,  then 
catch  them,  and  finally  have  the  wherewithal  to 
season  them." 

The  cook,  a  stout  Picardy  woman,  took  the  best 
morsels  for  herself,  and  spoke  to  Cesar  only  to  com- 
plain of  Monsieur  or  of  Madame  Ragon,  who  gave 
her  no  chance  to  steal  anything.  Towards  the  end 
of  the  first  month  this  girl,  obliged  to  take  care  of 
the  house  one  Sunday,  struck  up  a  conversation 
with  Cesar.  Ursule  with  the  dirt  rubbed  off  seemed 
charming  to  the  poor  general  utility  boy,  who,  unless 
chance  saved  him,  was  going  to  be  wrecked  on  the 
first  sunken  rock  in  his  career.  Like  all  beings 
devoid  of  protection,  he  fell  in  love  with  the  first 
woman  who  cast  an  amiable  look  upon  him. 
The  cook  took  Cesar  under  her  shield,  and  secret 
love  scenes  followed,  about  which  the  clerks  teased 
him  pitilessly.  Two  years  later  the  cook  very 
fortunately  gave  up  Cesar  for  a  young  deserter 
from  her  own  country  who  was  in  hiding  at  Paris, 
a  Picard  of  twenty,  rich  to  the  extent  of  owning  a 
few  acres  of  land,  who  let  Ursule  marry  him. 

During  these  two  years  the  cook  had  fed  her 
little  Cesar  well,  had  explained  to  him  several 
mysteries  of  Parisian  life  by  making  him  examine  it 
from  below,  and  from  jealousy  had  inculcated  upon 
him  a  profound  dread  of  the  places  of  bad  repute,  the 
dangers  of  which  did  not  seem  unknown  to  her. 
In   1792,  the  feet  of   Cesar  betrayed  had  become 


IN   HIS   GLORY  39 

accustomed  to  the  pavement,  his  shoulders  to  the 
boxes,  and  his  mind  to  what  he  called  THE  HUMBUG 
of  Paris.  And  so,  when  Ursule  jilted  him  he  was 
soon  consoled,  for  she  did  not  come  up  to  any  of  his 
instinctive  sentimental  ideas.  Lascivious  and  coarse, 
sly-minded  and  light-fingered,  an  egoist  and  a 
tippler,  she  abused  Birotteau's  candor  without  hold- 
ing out  any  fair  prospect  to  him.  Sometimes  the  poor 
boy  sadly  saw  himself  bound  by  the  knots  that  press 
hardest  on  unwary  hearts  to  a  creature  with  whom 
he  had  no  sympathy  in  common.  When  he  became 
master  of  his  own  heart  he  had  grown  considerably 
and  had  reached  the  age  of  sixteen.  His  mind, 
developed  by  Ursule  and  the  pleasantries  of  the 
clerks,  led  him  to  study  the  business  in  a  manner  in 
which  intelligence  was  concealed  behind  an  air  of 
simplicity:  he  watched  the  customers,  asked,  at  idle 
moments,  explanations  about  the  various  articles  in 
stock,  remembered  the  differences  between  them 
and  where  they  were  located;  one  fine  day  he  knew 
all  the  goods,  their  prices  and  marks  better  than  the 
new-comers  knew  them;  from  that  time  on  Monsieur 
and  Madame  Ragon  were  accustomed  to  make  use  of 
him. 

The  day  on  which  the  terrible  requisition  of  the 
Year  II.  made  a  clean  sweep  at  citizen  Ragon's, 
Cesar  Birotteau,  now  promoted  to  the  position  of 
second  clerk,  took  advantage  of  the  circumstances  to 
obtain  a  salary  of  fifty  francs  a  month,  and  sat  down 
at  the  Ragons'  table  with  a  feeling  of  ineffable 
joy.      The   second    clerk   at  la   Reine  des    Roses, 


40  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

who  had  already  saved  six  hundred  francs,  had  a 
room  in  which  he  could  conveniently  lock  up,  in 
articles  of  furniture  he  had  long  coveted,  the  garments 
that  he  had  accumulated.  On  the  Revolution  holi- 
days— decadi,  every  tenth  day, — dressed  like  the 
young  men  of  the  time,  submitting  to  the  dictates  of 
fashion,  in  affecting  brutal  manners,  this  mild  and 
modest  peasant  assumed  a  mien  that  made  him  at 
least  their  equal,  and  he  thus  removed  the  barriers 
that  in  other  times  the  fact  of  being  a  servant  had 
set  up  between  the  middle  class  and  him.  Towards 
the  end  of  this  year  his  probity  gave  him  charge  of 
the  cash.  The  imposing  citizeness  Ragon  looked 
after  the  clerk's  linen,  and  the  two  dealers  grew 
intimate  with  him. 

In  Vendemiaire,  1794,  Cesar,  who  had  a  hundred 
golden  louis,  exchanged  them  for  six  thousand  francs 
in  assignats,  bought  funds  at  thirty  francs,  paid  for 
them  the  day  before  the  scale  of  depreciation  became 
current  at  the  Bourse,  and  held  on  to  his  investment 
with  unspeakable  happiness.  From  that  day  he 
followed  the  fluctuation  of  the  money  market  and  the 
course  of  public  affairs  with  secret  anxieties  that 
made  his  heart  beat  at  the  record  of  the  reverses  or 
successes  which  marked  that  period  of  our  history. 
Monsieur  Ragon,  the  former  perfumer  to  Her  Majesty 
Queen  Marie-Antoinette,  in  those  critical  times  con- 
fided to  Cesar  Birotteau  his  attachment  to  the  fallen 
tyrants.  This  confidence  was  one  of  the  prime  inci- 
dents in  Cesar's  life.  The  evening  chats,  when  the 
shop  was  closed,  the  street  quiet  and  the  day's  cash 


IN   HIS   GLORY  4I 

account  settled  up,  made  a  fanatic  of  the  Tourainer, 
who,  in  becoming  a  Royalist,  only  obeyed  his  innate 
feelings.     The  recital  of  Louis  XVI. 's  noble  deeds, 
the  anecdotes  with  which   the   husband  and  wife 
extolled  the  queen's  merits  stimulated  Cesar's  im- 
agination.    The  terrible  fate  of  those  two  crowned 
heads,  cut  off  only  a  few  steps  away  from  the  shop, 
made  his  impressionable  heart  revolt  and  inspired 
him  with  hatred  for  a  system  of  government  that 
thought  nothing  of  the  shedding  of  innocent  blood. 
Commercial  interest  made  him  see  the  ruin  of  trade 
in  the  forcing-up  of  prices  and  in  the  storms  of  poli- 
tics, always  hostile  to  business.     True  to  his  calling 
as  a  perfumer,  he  moreover  hated  a  revolution  that 
would   make  a  Titus  of   everybody  and   outlawed 
powder.    The  tranquillity  assured  by  absolute  power 
being  alone  able  to  give  life  and  money,  he  became 
fanatical  in  favor  of  royalty.    When  Monsieur  Ragon 
saw  him  well  disposed,  he  made  him  first  clerk  and 
initiated  him  into  the  secrets  of  the  establishment  of 
hi  Reine  des  Roses,  some  of  whose  customers  were 
the  most  active,  the  most  devoted  emissaries  of  the 
Bourbons,  and   through  which  was  carried  on  the 
correspondence  of  the  West  with  Paris.    Impelled  by 
the  warmth  of   youth,  electrified   by  his   relations 
with  the  Georges,  the  La  Billardieres,  the  Montau- 
rans,  the  Bauvans,  the  Longuys,  the  Mandas,  the 
Berniers,  the  Du  Guenics  and  the  Fontaines,  Cesar 
rushed  into  the  conspiracy  which  the  Royalists  and 
the  Terrorists  combined  directed,  on  the  thirteenth 
Vendemiaire,  against  the  expiring  Convention. 


42  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

Cesar  had  the  honor  of  fighting  against  Napoleon 
on  the  steps  of  Saint-Roch,  and  was  wounded  early 
in  the  fray.  Everybody  knows  the  outcome  of  this 
effort.  If  Barras's  aide-de-camp  emerged  from  his 
obscurity,  Birotteau  was  saved  by  his.  Some 
friends  carried  the  warlike  first  clerk  to  the  la  Reine 
des  Roses,  where  he  remained  concealed  in  the 
garret,  nursed  by  Madame  Ragon,  and  happily  for- 
gotten. Cesar  Birotteau  had  but  an  outburst  of 
military  courage.  During  the  month  that  it  took 
him  to  get  well  he  made  solid  reflections  on  the 
ridiculous  alliance  of  politics  and  perfumery.  If  he 
remained  a  Royalist,  he  resolved  to  be  simply  and 
purely  a  Royalist  perfumer,  without  ever  again 
compromising  himself,  and  gave  himself  up  body 
and  soul  to  his  business. 

On  the  eighteenth  Brumaire,  Monsieur  and  Madame 
Ragon,  despairing  of  the  Royalist  cause,  decided  to 
give  up  the  perfumery  business,  to  live  as  good 
middle  class  citizens,  without  mixing  any  more  in 
politics.  In  order  to  get  their  price  for  their  business, 
they  must  find  a  man  who  is  more  honest  than  am- 
bitious, who  has  a  larger  supply  of  common  sense 
than  capacity;  Ragon  then  mentioned  the  matter  to 
his  chief  clerk.  Birotteau,  twenty  years  old  and 
possessing  a  thousand  francs  of  income  from  the 
public  funds,  hesitated.  His  ambition  consisted  in 
living  near  Chinon  when  he  became  possessed  of  an 
income  of  fifteen  hundred  francs,  and  when  the  First 
Consul  would  have  consolidated  the  public  debt  by 
consolidating  himself  in  the  Tuileries.     Why  risk  his 


IN  HIS  GLORY  43 

honest  and  simple  independence  in  the  chances  of 
trade?  he  said  to  himself.  He  had  never  dreamt  of 
acquiring  so  large  a  fortune,  due  to  those  chances 
which  one  takes  only  in  youth;  he  thought  then  of 
marrying-  in  Touraine  a  woman  as  rich  as  himself, 
so  that  he  could  buy  and  cultivate  Les  Tresori^res, 
a  small  estate  that  he  had  coveted  since  he  had 
attained  the  age  of  reason,  to  which  he  dreamed  of 
adding,  as  soon  as  he  had  acquired  a  thousand 
crowns  income,  where  he  would  lead  a  happily 
retired  life.  He  was  going  to  refuse  when  love 
suddenly  changed  his  resolve  by  increasing  tenfold 
the  figure  of  his  ambition. 

Since  Ursule's  treachery  Cesar  had  remained 
wise,  as  much  from  fear  of  the  danger  that  one  runs 
at  Paris  in  love  affairs  as  in  consequence  of  his 
labors.  When  the  passions  have  nothing  to  feed  on, 
they  change  as  occasion  requires;  marriage  then 
becomes,  for  people  of  the  middle  class,  a  fixed  idea, 
for  they  have  only  this  way  of  making  conquest  of  a 
woman  and  taking  her  to  themselves.  Cesar  Birot- 
teau  was  in  that  mood.  Everything  devolved  on 
the  head  clerk  in  the  shop  of  la  Reine  des  Roses:  he 
hadn't  a  moment  to  give  to  pleasure.  In  such  a 
mode  of  life  the  wants  are  still  more  imperious:  and 
so  the  meeting  with  a  pretty  girl,  of  whom  a  libertine 
clerk  would  hardly  have  dreamt,  was  to  produce  the 
greatest  effect  on  the  wise  Cesar.  One  glorious 
day  in  June,  entering  the  He  Saint-Louis  by  the 
Pont  Marie,  he  saw  a  young  girl  standing  in  the  door- 
way of  a  shop  situated  at  the  angle  of  the  Quai 


44  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

d'Anjou.  Constance  Pillerault  was  the  head  sales- 
woman in  a  novelty  shop  called  le  Petit  Matelot,  the 
first  of  the  shops  to  adopt  in  Paris  more  or  less 
painted  signs,  waving  flags,  full  displays  of  shawls 
on  swinging  frames,  cravats  piled  up  like  card  houses, 
and  a  thousand  other  attractions  of  trade,  one  price 
only,  wrappers,  labels,  illusions  and  optical  effects 
carried  to  such  a  degree  of  perfection  that  the  shop- 
fronts  have  become  trade  poems.  The  low  price  of 
all  the  articles  called  novelties  that  were  to  be 
found  at  le  Petit  Matelot  gave  it  a  vogue  unheard  of  in 
the  part  of  Paris  least  favorable  to  both  fashion  and 
trade.  This  head  girl  was  then  quoted  for  her 
beauty,  as  were  afterwards  the  Pretty  Lemonade- 
Girl  of  the  Mille  Colonnes  cafe  and  several  other 
poor  creatures  who  have  made  more  young  and  old 
men  look  through  the  windows  of  the  modistes, 
lemonade  and  other  shops  than  there  are  paving 
stones  in  the  streets  of  Paris.  The  head  clerk  of  la 
Peine  des  Poses  living  between  Saint-Roch  and  the 
Rue  la  Sourdiere,  his  attention  given  exclusively  to 
perfumery,  had  no  suspicion  of  existence  of  the 
le  Petit  Matelot ;  for  the  minor  trades  of  Paris  are 
somewhat  strangers  to  one  another.  Cesar  was  so 
intensely  smitten  by  Constance's  beauty  that  he 
excitedly  entered  le  Petit  Matelot  to  purchase  half  a 
dozen  linen  shirts,  on  the  price  of  which  he  kept  up 
a  long  debate,  causing  several  rolls  of  linen  to  be 
unfolded,  just  as  would  an  English  woman  in  the 
humor  of  shopping.  The  head  sales-girl  took  pains 
to  study  Cesar,  and   came   to   the   conclusion,  by 


IN  HIS  GLORY  45 

certain  symptoms  known  to  all  women,  that  he  had 
come  in  far  more  on  account  of  the  saleswoman 
than  for  the  merchandise.  He  dictated  his  name 
and  address  to  the  girl,  who  became  quite  indifferent 
to  the  customer's  admiration  once  he  had  made  his 
purchase.  The  poor  clerk  had  had  but  little  trouble 
in  gaining  Ursule's  good  graces,  he  had  remained 
as  silly  as  a  sheep;  love  making  him  still  more  so, 
he  dared  not  say  a  word,  and  was  moreover  too 
badly  smitten  to  remark  the  indifference  that  fol- 
lowed the  smile  of  this  saleswoman  siren. 

For  a  week  he  went  every  evening  to  show  him- 
self in  front  of  le  Petit  Mateloty  trying  to  get  a  look, 
as  a  dog  seeks  a  bone  at  a  kitchen  door,  regardless 
of  the  raillery  in  which  the  clerks  and  the  girls 
indulged,  humbly  making  way  for  purchasers  or 
passers-by,  who  were  giving  their  attention  to  the 
little  incidents  of  the  shop.  Some  days  afterwards 
he  again  entered  the  paradise  in  which  his  angel  was, 
less  to  buy  handkerchiefs  there  than  to  make  a 
bright  idea  known  to  her. 

"If  you  need  any  perfumery.  Mademoiselle,  I 
would  be  very  glad  to  supply  you  with  it,"  he  said 
as  he  paid  her. 

Constance  Pillerault  was  in  daily  receipt  of  brill- 
iant proposals  in  which  there  was  no  question  of 
marriage;  and,  though  her  heart  was  as  pure  as  her 
brow  was  white,  it  was  only  after  six  months' 
marching  and  counter-marching,  by  which  Cesar 
made  known  his  indefatigable  love,  that  she  con- 
descended to  receive  Cesar's   attentions,  without. 


46  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

however,  committing  herself:  a  prudence  com- 
manded by  the  infinite  number  of  her  suitors, 
wholesale  wine-merchants,  rich  lemonade-dealers 
and  others,  who  cast  sheep's  eyes  at  her.  The 
lover  had  called  in  to  his  aid  Constance's  guardian, 
Monsieur  Claude-Joseph  Pillerault,  then  a  dealer  in 
iron  and  copper  ware  on  the  Quai  de  la  Ferraille, 
whom  he  had  succeeded  in  discovering  by  having 
recourse  to  the  underhanded  espionage  which  dis- 
tinguishes true  love.  The  rapidity  with  which  this 
tale  marches,  obliges  us  to  pass  in  silence  over  the 
joys  of  Parisian  love  made  innocently,  and  to  say 
nothing  of  the  prodigalities  peculiar  to  clerks:  melons 
gathered  in  their  prime,  fine  dinners  at  Venua's  fol- 
lowed by  the  theatre,  country  parties  in  a  Sunday 
hack.  Without  being  a  handsome  youth,  Cesar 
had  nothing  in  his  person  that  could  raise  an  objec- 
tion to  his  being  loved.  Paris  life  and  his  confine- 
ment in  a  dark  shop  had  obliterated  the  intensity  of 
his  peasant  tint.  His  abundant  black  hair,  his  neck 
like  that  of  a  Normandy  horse,  his  stout  limbs,  his 
simple  and  honest  bearing,  all  contributed  to  give 
a  favorable  impression  of  him.  Uncle  Pillerault, 
charged  with  looking  after  the  welfare  of  his  brother's 
daughter,  had  made  investigations:  he  gave  his  sanc- 
tion to  the  Tourainer's  intentions.  In  1800,  in  the 
beautiful  month  of  May,  Mademoiselle  Pillerault 
consented  to  marry  Cesar  Birotteau,  who  fainted 
with  joy  at  the  very  moment  when,  under  a  linden, 
at  Sceaux,  Constance-Barbe-Josephine  accepted  him 
as  her  husband. 


IN  HIS  GLORY  47 

"My  little  one,"  says  Monsieur  Pillerault,  "you 
are  getting  a  good  husband.  He  has  a  warm  heart 
and  is  the  soul  of  honor:  he  is  pliable  as  the  willow 
and  wise  as  a  child  Jesus;  in  fine,  he  is  a  king 
among  men." 

Constance  freely  gave  up  the  brilliant  future  of 
which,  like  all  shop-girls,  she  had  sometimes 
dreamed:  she  would  be  an  honest  wife,  a  good 
mother  of  a  family,  and  took  life  according  to  the 
religious  programme  of  the  middle  class.  This  part, 
moreover,  agreed  better  with  her  ideas  than  the 
dangerous  vanities  that  seduce  so  many  young 
Parisian  imaginations.  Of  a  limited  intelligence, 
Constance  belonged  to  the  type  of  the  lower  middle 
class  girl,  whose  work  does  not  go  well  without  a 
little  temper,  which  begins  by  refusing  what  it  desires 
and  is  sorry  when  taken  at  its  word,  whose  restless 
activity  is  directed  toward  the  kitchen  and  the  cash, 
toward  the  most  serious  affairs  and  the  minutest 
darns  of  the  linen;  which  loves  when  grumbling, 
conceives  only  the  simplest  ideas,  the  small  coin  of 
the  mind,  reasons  on  everything,  is  afraid  of  every- 
thing, calculates  everything  and  is  always  thinking 
of  the  future.  Her  cold  but  pure  loveliness,  her 
attractive  bearing,  her  coolness,  kept  Birotteau  from 
thinking  of  her  defects,  for  which,  moreover,  she 
compensated  by  that  delicate  probity  natural  to 
women,  by  an  extreme  love  for  order,  by  excessive 
fondness  for  work  and  by  ability  in  making  sales. 
Constance  was  then  eighteen  years  old  and  was 
worth  eleven  thousand   francs.      Cesar,  in  whom 


48  CESAR    BIROTTEAU 

love  inspired  the  most  excessive  ambition,  bought 
the  business  of  la  Reine  des  Roses  and  removed  it 
close  to  the  Place  Vendome,  in  a  fine  house.  Only 
twenty-one,  married  to  a  pretty  woman  whom  he 
adored,  the  owner  of  an  establishment  for  which  he 
had  paid  three-quarters  of  the  price,  he  could  but 
see  the  future  rosy,  especially  when  he  looked  at 
the  progress  he  had  made  since  starting  out.  Roguin, 
notary  to  the  Ragons,  who  drew  up  the  marriage 
contract,  gave  sound  advice  to  the  new  perfume 
dealer  by  keeping  him  from  completing  the  payment 
for  the  property  with  his  wife's  dowry. 

"  Keep  some  money,  my  boy,  for  making  some 
good  investments,"  he  said  to  him. 

Birotteau  regarded  the  notary  with  admiration, 
got  into  the  habit  of  consulting  him,  and  made  him 
one  of  his  friends.  Like  Ragon  and  Pillerault,  he 
had  such  faith  in  the  office  of  notary  that  he  then 
gave  himself  up  to  Roguin  without  allowing  himself 
to  entertain  a  suspicion.  Thanks  to  this  advice, 
Cesar,  having  Constance's  eleven  thousand  francs 
to  begin  with,  would  not  then  have  exchanged  his 
possessions  for  those  of  the  First  Consul,  grand  as 
Napoleon's  possessions  might  seem  to  be.  At  first 
Birotteau  kept  only  a  cook,  he  lived  in  the  entresol 
over  his  shop,  a  paltry  sort  of  lodging  rather  nicely 
fitted  up  by  an  upholsterer,  and  in  which  the  newly- 
married  couple  spent  an  everlasting  honeymoon. 
Madame  Cesar  looked  marvelously  well  in  her  shop. 
Her  famous  beauty  had  a  powerful  influence  over 
the  sales,  and  the  only  topic  of  discussion  among 


IN  HIS  GLORY  49 

the  elegant  folk  of  the  Empire  was  the  pretty  Mad- 
ame Birotteau.  If  Cesar  was  accused  of  royalist 
leanings  everybody  did  justice  to  his  honesty;  if 
some  neighboring  dealers  envied  his  good  fortune, 
he  was  acknowledged  to  be  worthy  of  it.  The  gun- 
shot wound  that  he  had  received  on  the  steps  of 
Saint-Roch  gained  for  him  the  reputation  of  one  who 
had  mixed  himself  up  in  the  secrets  of  politics  and 
that  of  a  brave  man,  though  he  had  no  military 
courage  in  his  heart  and  no  political  idea  in  his 
head.  On  these  qualifications  the  good  people  of 
the  arrondissement  named  him  for  captain  of  the 
National  Guard;  but  the  appointment  was  cancelled 
by  Napoleon,  who,  according  to  Birotteau,  had  a 
grudge  against  him  on  account  of  their  meeting  in 
Vendemiaire.  Cesar  had  then  cheaply  acquired  a 
varnish  of  persecution  that  made  him  interesting  in 
the  eyes  of  opponents  and  led  to  his  acquiring  a 
certain  importance. 

Such  was  the  condition  of  that  household,  ever 
happy  by  reason  of  its  sentiments,  disturbed  only 
by  the  anxieties  of  trade. 

During  the  first  year  Cesar  Birotteau  initiated  his 
wife  into  the  ways  of  selling  and  of  retailing  per- 
fumery, a  trade  to  which  she  took  most  admirably; 
she  seemed  to  have  been  created  and  brought  into 
the  world  to  catch  customers.  This  year  ended,  the 
inventory  surprised  the  ambitious  perfumer:  all  ex- 
penses defrayed,  in  less  than  twenty  years  he  would 
have  saved  the  modest  capital  of  a  hundred  thousand 
francs,  which  was  the  figure  at  which  he  had  placed 

4 


50  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

his  happiness.  He  then  resolved  to  get  rich  more 
rapidly  and  first  thought  of  adding  the  manufactur- 
ing to  the  retail  business.  Against  his  wife's  advice 
he  rented  a  building  and  ground  in  the  Faubourg  du 
Temple,  and  had  painted  on  it  in  large  letters: 
Cesar  Birotteau's  Factory.  He  enticed  from 
Grasse  a  workman  with  whom  he  began  on  half 
shares  in  a  small  way  the  manufacture  of  soaps, 
essences  and  eau-de-Cologne.  His  partnership  with 
this  workman  lasted  only  six  months  and  ended  in 
losses  which  he  bore  alone.  Not  discouraged,  Bi- 
rotteau  wanted  to  obtain  a  result  at  any  price,  if  only 
not  to  be  grumbled  at  by  his  wife,  to  whom  he  ac- 
knowledged later  that  at  that  time  of  despondency 
his  head  boiled  like  a  pot,  and  that  on  several  occa- 
sions, were  it  not  for  his  religious  feelings,  he  would 
have  jumped  into  the  Seine. 

Distracted  by  some  fruitless  experiments,  he 
strolled  one  day  along  the  boulevards  on  his  way 
home  to  dinner,  for  the  Parisian  stroller  is  as  often 
a  man  in  despair  as  an  idler.  Among  some  six-cent 
books  lying  in  a  hamper  on  the  ground  his  eyes  were 
attracted  by  this  title  yellowed  by  dust:  Abdeker,  or 
the  Art  of  Preserving  Beauty.  He  picked  up  this 
pretended  Arabic  book,  a  sort  of  romance  written 
by  a  physician  of  the  preceding  century,  and  fell  on 
a  page  on  which  there  was  question  of  perfumes. 
Leaning  against  a  tree  in  the  boulevard  to  turn  over 
the  leaves  of  the  book,  he  read  a  note  in  which  the 
author  explained  the  nature  of  the  derm  and  the 
epiderm,  and  showed  that  such  a  paste  or  such  a 


IN  HIS  GLORY  51 

soap  would  often  produce  an  effect  contrary  to  that 
expected  of  it,  if  the  paste  and  the  soap  gave  tone 
to  the  skin  that  wanted  to  be  relaxed,  or  relaxed  the 
skin  that  required  a  tonic.  Birotteau  bought  this 
book,  in  which  he  saw  a  fortune.  However,  far 
from  having  confidence  in  his  lights,  he  went  to  a 
famous  chemist,  Vauquelin,  of  whom  he  artlessly 
asked  how  to  compound  a  double  cosmetic  that  would 
produce  effects  suitable  to  the  different  natures  of 
the  human  epiderm.  True  scholars,  those  men  so 
genuinely  great,  in  the  sense  that  they  never  obtain 
during  life  the  renown  by  which  their  vast  unknown 
labors  should  be  paid,  are  nearly  all  available  and 
smile  at  those  poor  in  mental  resources.  Vauquelin 
accordingly  protected  the  perfumer,  allowed  himself 
to  be  called  the  inventor  of  a  paste  for  whitening 
the  hands  and  told  him  the  ingredients.  Birotteau 
called  this  cosmetic  the  Sultana  Double  Paste.  In 
order  to  complete  the  work,  he  applied  the  process 
of  the  paste  for  the  hands  to  a  water  for  the  com- 
plexion which  he  called  Carminative  Water.  In  his 
venture  he  imitated  the  custom  of  le  Petit  Matelot, 
he  was  the  first  among  perfumers  to  use  that  wealth 
of  placards,  advertisements  and  other  means  of 
publication  which  people,  perhaps  unjustly,  call 
charlatanism. 

The  Sttltajta  Paste  and  the  Carminative  Water 
were  announced  throughout  the  polite  society  and 
commercial  world  by  colored  placards,  at  the  head  of 
which  were  these  words  :  Approved  by  the  Institute  ! 
This  label  used,  for  the  first  time,  had  a  magical 


52  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

effect.  Not  only  France,  but  the  Continent,  was 
decked  with  yellow,  red  and  blue  placards,  by  the 
sovereign  of  la  Reine  des  Roses,  who  kept,  supplied 
and  manufactured,  at  moderate  prices,  all  that  was 
in  his  line.  At  a  time  when  people  spoke  only  of  the 
Orient,  to  call  any  cosmetic  whatever  by  the  name 
of  Sultana  Paste,  seeing  the  magic  effect  of  these 
words  in  a  country  where  every  man  aims  to  be  a 
sultan  as  every  woman  a  sultana,  was  an  inspiration 
that  might  come  to  any  ordinary  man  as  well  as  to  a 
man  of  ability;  but,  as  the  public  always  judges  by 
results,  Birotteau  passed  so  much  the  more  for  a 
superior  being,  commercially  speaking,  as  he  him- 
self drew  up  a  prospectus,  the  ridiculous  phraseology 
of  which  was  an  element  of  success:  in  France  one 
laughs  only  at  things  and  men  that  one  is  concerned 
with,  and  no  one  bothers  about  what  does  not  suc- 
ceed. Though  Birotteau  did  not  act  his  stupidity,  he 
was  credited  with  the  ability  of  knowing  how  to  play 
the  dunce  on  purpose.  A  copy  of  this  prospectus 
has  been  found  after  considerable  trouble,  in  the 
house  of  Popinot  and  Company,  druggists.  Rue  des 
Lombards.  This  curious  document  is  of  a  piece  with 
those  that,  in  a  higher  circle,  historians  entitle  con- 
firmatory evidence.     Here  it  is  then: 


IN  HIS  GLORY  53 


SULTANA  DOUBLE  PASTE  AND  CARMINATIVE 

WATER 

OF  CESAR  BIROTTEAU. 

MARVELLOUS  DISCOVERY. 

APPROVED  BY  THE  INSTITUTE  OF  FRANCE. 

For  a  long  time  past  a  paste  for  the  hands  and  a  water  for  the 
face,  giving  a  result  superior  to  that  obtained  by  Cologne  water 
in  toilet  work  have  been  generally  desired  in  Europe  by  both 
sexes.  After  having  devoted  long  vigils  to  the  study,  in  both 
sexes,  of  the  derm  and  the  epiderm— men  and  women  natur- 
ally attach  the  greatest  importance  to  softness,  suppleness, 
clearness  and  a  velvety  feeling  of  the  skin,  the  Sieur  Birot- 
teau,  a  perfumer  favorably  known  in  the  capital  and  abroad, 
has  discovered  a  paste  and  a  water  justly  called  marvellous, 
since  their  appearance,  by  the  elegant  of  both  sexes  in  Paris. 
Indeed,  this  paste  and  this  water  possess  astonishing  prop- 
erties for  acting  on  the  skin,  without  wrinkling  it  prema- 
turely, an  effect  inseparable  from  the  drugs  inconsiderately 
used  until  this  day  and  invented  by  greedy  and  ignorant  per- 
sons. This  discovery  rests  on  the  division  of  temperaments, 
which  group  themselves  into  two  great  classes  indicated  by  the 
color  of  the  paste  and  of  the  water,  which  are  rose-colored  for 
the  derm  and  epiderm  of  persons  of  lymphatic  constitution, 
and  white  for  those  of  persons  who  enjoy  a  sanguine  tempera- 
ment. 

This  paste  is  called  Sultana  Paste,  because  this  discovery 
had  already  been  made  for  the  seraglio  by  an  Arab  physician. 
It  has  been  approved  by  the  Institute  on  the  report  of  our 
illustrious  chemist,  Vauquelin,  as  well  as  the  water  which  is 
based  on  the  principles  that  have  dictated  the  composition  of 
the  paste- 

This  precious  Paste,  which  exhales  the  sweetest  perfume, 
makes  the  most  obstinate  freckles  disappear,  whitens  the  most 


54  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

recalcitrant  epidermis,  and  stops  the  sweating  of  the  hands  of 
which  women,  no  less  than  men,  complain. 

The  Carminative  Water  removes  those  small  pimples  that,  at 
certain  times,  suddenly  break  out  on  women  and  upset  their 
plans  in  regard  to  the  ball ;  it  refreshes  and  revives  the  colors 
by  opening  or  closing  the  pores  according  to  the  exigencies  of 
the  temperament ;  it  is  already  so  well  known  for  postponing 
the  ravages  of  time  that  many  ladies  have,  out  of  gratitude, 
called  it  BEAUTY'S  FRIEND. 

Eau-de-Cologne  is  purely  and  simply  a  common  perfume 
without  any  special  efficacy,  while  the  Sultana  Double  Paste 
and  the  Carminative  Water  are  two  active  compositions,  of  a 
motive  power  acting  without  danger  on  the  internal  qualities 
and  aiding  them  ;  their  odors,  essentially  balsamic  and  having 
a  diverting  effect,  quickens  the  heart  and  the  brain  admirably, 
brightens  the  ideas  and  reawakens  them  ;  they  are  as  aston- 
ishing for  their  merit  as  for  their  simplicity;  finally,  this  is  an 
additional  attraction  offered  to  women  and  a  means  of  seduc- 
tion that  men  may  acquire. 

The  daily  use  of  the  water  relieves  any  smart  resulting  from 
shaving ;  it  also  preserves  the  lips  from  chapping  and  keeps 
them  red  ;  it  naturally  effaces  in  the  long  run  all  freckles,  and 
at  last  gives  back  its  natural  tone  to  the  flesh.  These  effects 
always  tell  in  man  of  aperfect  equilibrium  between  the  humors, 
which  tends  to  free  persons  subject  to  sick-headache  from 
this  horrible  malady.  In  fine,  the  Carminative  Water,  which 
may  be  used  by  women  in  all  their  toilet  work,  prevents 
cutaneous  affections  by  not  restraining  the  transpiration  of  the 
tissues,  while  at  the  same  time  communicating  to  them  a  per- 
sistent velvety  feeling. 

Address,  prepaid,  MONSIEUR  CESAR  BIROTTEAU,  suc- 
cessor to  Ragon,  formerly  perfumer  to  Queen  Marie-Antoin- 
ette, la  Reine  des  Roses,  Rue  Saint-Honore,  Paris,  near  the 
Place  Vendome. 

The  price  of  a  cake  of  paste  is  three  francs,  and  that  of  a  bottle 
is  six  francs. 


IN   HIS   GLORY  55 

Monsieur  Cesar  Birotteau,  in  order  to  guard  against  all 
imitations,  warns  the  public  that  the  paste  is  wrapped  in 
paper  bearing  his  signature,  and  that  the  bottles  have  a  stamp 
blown  in  the  glass. 

Success  was  due,  without  Cesar  suspecting  it,  to 
Constance,  who  advised  him  to  send  the  Carminative 
Water  and  the  Sultana  Paste  in  cases  to  all  the  per- 
fumers in  France  and  abroad,  offering  them  a  reduc- 
tion of  thirty  per  cent  if  they  would  take  these  two 
articles  by  the  gross.  The  paste  and  the  water  were 
in  reality  much  better  than  similar  cosmetics  and 
misled  the  ignorant  by  the  distinction  set  up  between 
temperament:  the  five  hundred  perfumers  of  France, 
enticed  by  gain,  annually  bought  of  Birotteau  each 
over  three  hundred  gross  of  paste  and  water,  a  con- 
sumption that  brought  him  a  limited  percentage  of 
profits,  but  enormous  because  of  the  quantity  of  the 
articles.  Cesar  was  then  able  to  buy  the  shanty 
and  the  ground  in  the  Faubourg  du  Temple,  and  he 
built  an  extensive  factory  there  and  handsomely 
decorated  his  la  Reine  des  Roses  shop.  His  dwelling 
received  the  small  comforts  of  plenty,  and  his  wife 
was  not  so  worried  after  that. 

In  1810  Madame  Cesar  foresaw  a  rise  in  rents, 
and  she  urged  her  husband  to  become  the  chief 
tenant  of  the  house  in  which  they  had  the  shop  and 
the  entresol,  and  to  remove  their  living  quarters  to 
the  second  floor.  A  fortunate  circumstance  decided 
Constance  to  shut  her  eyes  against  the  follies  that 
Birotteau  lavished  for  her  on  his  apartments.  The 
perfumer   had   just    been   elected  a  judge   of   the 


56  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

Tribunal  of  Commerce.  His  iionesty,  his  well-known 
sense  of  propriety  and  the  consideration  in  which 
he  was  held  gained  for  him  this  dignity  which  from 
that  time  classed  him  among  the  prominent  shop- 
keepers of  Paris.  To  increase  his  knowledge  he 
got  up  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  read  the  col- 
lections of  jurisprudence,  and  the  books  that  treated 
of  commercial  lawsuits.  His  idea  of  justice,  his 
rectitude,  his  good  will,  qualities  essential  in  the 
appreciation  of  the  difficulties  submitted  to  consular 
judgment,  made  him  one  of  the  most  highly  esteemed 
of  the  judges.  His  defects  contributed  equally  to 
his  reputation.  Feeling  his  inferiority,  Cesar  cheer- 
fully made  his  knowledge  subordinate  to  that  of  his 
colleagues;  thus  flattered  at  being  listened  to  by  him 
with  such  curiosity,  some  sought  the  silent  appro- 
bation of  a  man  deemed  profound  by  reason  of  his 
quality  as  a  listener;  others,  charmed  by  his  modesty 
and  mildness,  boasted  of  it.  The  persons  appearing 
before  him  praised  his  benevolence,  his  spirit  of  con- 
ciliation, and  he  was  often  selected  as  arbitrator  in 
disputes  in  which  his  common  sense  would  suggest 
to  him  a  judgment  worthy  of  a  Cadi.  During  the 
whole  time  that  he  was  in  office  he  knew  how  to 
use  language  filled  with  commonplaces,  bristling 
with  axioms  and  calculations  couched  in  rounded 
phrases  which,  pleasantly  spoken,  sounded  like  elo- 
quence in  the  ears  of  superficial  folk.  He  was  thus 
pleasing  to  that  naturally  mediocre  majority,  forever 
condemned  to  work,  to  keeping  their  eyes  on  the 
ground.     Cesar  lost  so  much  time  in  the  court  that 


IN  HIS  GLORY  57 

his  wife  prevailed  upon  him  to  decline  re-election  to 
this  costly  honor.  About  1813,  thanks  to  its  con- 
stantly pulling  together  and  after  having  plodded 
through  life  in  the  common  fashion,  this  household 
saw  the  beginning  of  an  era  of  prosperity  which  it 
seemed  as  if  nothing  would  interrupt.  Monsieur 
and  Madame  Ragon,  their  predecessors;  their  uncle 
Pillerault,  Roguin  the  notary,  the  Matifats,  druggists 
in  the  Rue  des  Lombards,  who  supplied  the  stock  to 
la  Reine  des  Roses;  Joseph  Lebas,  cloth  merchant, 
successor  to  the  Guillaumes,  of  the  Chat  qui  pelote, 
one  of  the  lights  of  the  Rue  Saint-Denis;  Judge 
Popinot,  Madame  Ragon's  brother;  Chiffreville,  of 
the  firm  of  Protez  &  Chiffreville;  Monsieur  and 
Madame  Cochin,  employed  in  the  Treasury  and 
silent  partners  of  the  Matifats;  the  Abbe  Loraux, 
confessor  and  director  of  the  pious  folk  of  this 
coterie,  and  some  other  persons,  made  up  the  circle 
of  their  friends.  Despite  Birotteau's  royalist  lean- 
ings, public  opinion  was  then  in  his  favor;  he  passed 
for  being  very  rich,  though  he  was  as  yet  worth  only 
a  hundred  thousand  francs  outside  of  his  business. 
The  regularity  of  his  affairs,  his  exactness,  his  habit 
of  owing  nothing,  of  never  discounting  his  paper, 
but  of  offering,  on  the  contrary,  solid  assets  to  those 
to  whom  he  could  be  useful,  and  his  obliging  dis- 
position, gained  him  enormous  credit.  Moreover, 
he  had  really  made  a  great  deal  of  money;  but  his 
buildings  and  his  factories  had  absorbed  much  of  it. 
Then,  to  keep  his  house  cost  him  nearly  twenty 
thousand  francs  a  year.     Finally,  the  education  of 


58  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

Cesarine,  an  only  daughter,  idolized  by  Constance 
as  well  as  by  him,  was  a  heavy  expense.  Neither 
the  husband  nor  the  wife  had  any  regard  for  money 
when  there  was  question  of  providing  pleasure  for 
their  daughter,  from  whom  they  would  not  be  sep- 
arated. Imagine  the  enjoyment  of  the  poor  upstart 
peasant  when  he  heard  his  charming  Cesarine  re- 
peating on  the  piano  one  of  Steibelt's  sonatas  or 
singing  a  romance;  when  he  saw  her  write  the 
French  language  correctly,  when  he  admired  her 
reading  to  him  both  the  Racines,  explaining  their 
beauties,  drawing  a  landscape  or  making  a  sketch  in 
sepia!  What  a  happiness  it  was  for  him  to  live  again 
in  so  beautiful  a  flower,  one  so  pure,  that  had  not 
yet  left  its  parent  stem,  an  angel,  in  fine,  whose 
budding  graces,  whose  first  developments  had  been 
most  fondly  watched!  an  only  daughter,  incapable 
of  having  contempt  for  her  father  or  of  making  fun 
of  his  lack  of  education,  so  truly  was  she  a  young 
girl.  When  Cesar  came  to  Paris  he  knew  how  to 
read,  write  and  figure,  but  his  education  stopped 
there,  his  laborious  life  had  prevented  him  from 
acquiring  ideas  and  knowledge  foreign  to  the  per- 
fumery trade.  Constantly  mingling  with  people  to 
whom  the  sciences  and  letters  were  a  matter  of 
indifference,  and  whose  education  embraced  only 
specialties;  having  no  time  to  devote  to  higher 
studies,  the  perfumer  became  a  practical  man.  Of 
necessity  he  adopted  the  language,  the  errors,  the 
opinions  of  middle-class  Paris,  who  admire  Moliere, 
Voltaire  and  Rousseau  on  hearsay,  who  buy  their 


IN  HIS  GLORY  59 

works  but  do  not  read  them;  who  hold  that  one 
ought  to  say  ormoire,  because  women  hid  their  gold 
(or)  in  these  articles  of  furniture,  as  well  as  their 
garments,  in  former  times  nearly  always  of  moire, 
and  that  it  was  a  corruption  for  people  to  say  armoire. 
Potier,  Talma,  Mademoiselle  Mars  were  ten  times 
millionaires  and  did  not  live  like  other  human  beings: 
the  great  tragedian  ate  raw  meat.  Mademoiselle  Mars 
sometimes  had  stewed  pearls,  in  imitation  of  a  famous 
Egyptian  actress.  The  Emperor  had  leather  pockets 
in  his  vests  so  that  he  could  take  his  snuff  in  hand- 
fuls,  he  galloped  on  horseback  up  the  steps  of  the 
orange  grove  at  Versailles.  Writers,  artists,  died  in 
the  hospital  in  consequence  of  their  eccentricities; 
they  were,  moreover,  all  atheists,  one  must  be 
careful  about  receiving  them  at  one's  house. 

Joseph  Lebas  referred  with  horror  to  the  history 
of  the  marriage  of  his  sister-in-law  Augustine  to 
Sommervieux,  the  painter.  Astronomers  lived  on 
spiders.  These  luminous  points  of  their  knowledge 
of  the  French  language,  of  the  dramatic  art,  of  poli- 
tics, of  literature,  of  science,  explain  the  scope  of 
this  middle-class  intelligence.  A  poet  who  passes 
along  the  Rue  des  Lombards  may,  by  scenting  cer- 
tain perfumes  there,  dream  of  Asia.  He  admires 
dancing  girls  in  an  Indian  caravansary  while  breath- 
ing the  vetiver-laden  air.  Struck  by  the  brilliancy 
of  the  cochineal,  he  finds  in  it  the  Brahmanic  poems, 
religions  and  castes.  Running  up  against  crude 
ivory,  he  mounts  on  elephants'  backs,  in  a  muslin 
cage,  and  there  makes  love  like  the  king  of  Lahore. 


60  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

But  the  small  trader  is  ignorant  of  whence  come  or 
where  grow  the  products  among  which  he  works. 
Birotteau  as  a  perfumer  didn't  know  an  iota  of 
natural  history  or  of  chemistry.  In  regarding  Vau- 
quelin  as  a  great  man,  he  considered  him  as  an 
exception,  he  was  of  the  character  of  that  retired 
grocer  who  thus  summed  up  a  discussion  on  the 
manner  of  importing  tea:  "  Tea  comes  only  in  two 
ways,  hy  caravan  or  by  Havre,"  he  says  with  a  know- 
ing air.  According  to  Birotteau,  aloes  and  opium 
were  to  be  found  only  in  the  Rue  des  Lombards. 
The  pretended  rose  water  from  Constantinople  was 
made,  like  Cologne  water,  at  Paris.  These  names 
of  places  were  lies  invented  to  please  the  French, 
who  cannot  bear  the  things  of  their  own  country.  A 
French  dealer  would  have  to  say  his  discovery  was 
English,  in  order  to  give  it  vogue,  as  in  England  a 
druggist  attributes  his  own  to  France.  Nevertheless, 
Cesar  could  never  be  wholly  foolish  or  stupid : 
honesty  and  goodness  shed  on  the  acts  of  his  life  a 
reflection  that  rendered  them  respectable,  for  a  good 
act  leads  to  the  acceptance  of  all  possible  shades  of 
ignorance.  His  constant  success  gave  him  assurance. 
In  Paris  assurance  is  accepted  as  the  power  of  which 
it  is  the  sign.  Having  appreciated  Cesar  during  the 
first  three  years  of  their  married  life,  his  wife  was  a 
prey  to  continual  trances  ;  in  this  union  she  repre- 
sented the  sagacious  and  foreseeing  party,  doubt, 
opposition,  fear;  as  Cesar  represented  in  it  audacity, 
ambition,  action,  the  unheard-of  happiness  of  fatality. 
In  spite  of  appearances,  the  dealer  was  fickle,  while 


IN  HIS  GLORY  6l 

his  wife  in  reality  had  patience  and  courage.  Thus 
a  pusillanimous,  mediocre  man,  without  education, 
without  ideas,  without  knowledge,  without  character, 
and  who  would  not  be  expected  to  succeed  in  the 
most  critical  position  in  the  world,  came,  by  the 
spirit  of  his  life,  by  his  sense  of  justice,  by  the 
goodness  of  a  truly  Christian  soul,  by  love  for  the 
only  woman  he  would  have,  to  pass  for  a  remarkable 
man,  courageous  and  full  of  resolve.  The  public 
saw  only  the  results.  Except  Pillerault  and  Judge 
Popinot,  persons  in  his  circle,  seeing  Cesar  only  on 
the  surface,  could  not  judge  of  him.  Moreover, 
the  twenty  or  thirty  friends  who  were  wont  to  get 
together  talked  the  same  nonsense,  repeated  the 
same  commonplaces,  all  regarded  one  another  as 
superior  folk  in  their  sphere.  The  women  vied  with 
each  other  in  the  matter  of  good  dinners  and  toilets; 
each  of  them  had  said  her  all  in  expressing  contempt 
for  her  husband.  Madame  Birotteau  alone  had  the 
good  sense  to  treat  hers  with  honor  and  respect  in 
public;  she  saw  in  him  the  man  who,  despite  his 
veiled  incapacity,  had  made  their  fortune;  and  whose 
distinction  she  shared.  Only  she  sometimes  asked 
herself  what  was  the  world,  if  all  men  pretending  to 
be  superior  resembled  her  husband.  This  conduct 
contributed  not  a  little  to  keep  up  the  respectful 
regard  accorded  to  the  tradesman  in  a  country 
where  women  are  rather  prone  to  disparage  their 
husbands  and  to  complain  of  them. 


* 

The  first  days  of  the  year  1814,  so  fatal  to 
Imperial  France,  were  marked  in  the  Birotteau 
family  by  two  events  that  would  not  be  considered 
of  much  importance  in  any  other  household,  but  of 
a  nature  to  make  an  impression  on  simple  souls  like 
those  of  Cesar  and  his  wife,  who,  glancing  over 
their  past,  found  in  it  only  sweet  emotions.  They 
had  employed  as  head  clerk  a  young  man  of  twenty- 
two,  whose  name  was  Ferdinand  du  Tillet.  This 
youth,  who  came  from  a  perfumery  house  that  had 
refused  to  give  him  an  interest  in  the  profits,  and 
who  passed  for  a  man  of  parts,  had  made  strenuous 
efforts  to  get  into  la  Reine  des  Roses,  whose  inmates, 
strong  points  and  domestic  habits  were  known  to 
him.  Birotteau  received  him  and  gave  him  a 
thousand  francs  salary,  with  the  intention  of  making 
him  his  successor.  Ferdinand  had  so  great  an 
influence  over  the  destinies  of  this  family  that  it  is 
necessary  to  speak  briefly  of  him.  At  first  he  was 
simply  called  Ferdinand,  his  only  name.  This 
anonym  seemed  to  him  a  great  advantage  at  the 
time  when  Napoleon  was  pressing  families  in  order 
to  find  soldiers  in  them.  He  was,  however,  born 
somewhere,  as  the  result  of  some  cruel  and  volup- 
tuous fancy.  Here  is  the  meagre  information  gath- 
ered regarding  his  civil  status.  In  1793  a  poor  girl 
of  Le  Tillet,  a  hamlet  situated  near  Les  Andelys, 

(63) 


64  CESAR    BIROTTEAU 

gave  birth  to  a  child  by  night  in  the  garden  of  the 
officiating  clergyman  of  Le  Tillet,  and  went  to 
drown  herself  after  rapping  on  the  shutters.  The 
good  priest  took  the  child,  gave  it  the  name  of  the 
saint  inscribed  on  the  calendar  for  that  day,  nour- 
ished it  and  brought  it  up  as  his  own.  The  cure 
died  in  1804,  without  leaving  enough  money  to 
complete  the  education  that  he  had  commenced. 
Ferdinand,  thrown  into  Paris,  there  led  a  filibustering 
life,  the  chances  of  which  might  bring  him  to  the 
scaffold  or  to  fortune,  to  the  bar,  into  the  army,  into 
trade,  or  to  domestic  servitude.  Ferdinand,  obliged 
to  live  as  a  veritable  Figaro,  became  a  commercial 
traveler,  then  clerk  to  a  perfumer  at  Paris,  to  which 
he  returned  after  having  traveled  through  France, 
studied  the  world  and  determined  on  succeeding  in 
it  at  any  cost. 

In  181 3  he  deemed  it  necessary  to  prove  his  age 
and  to  give  himself  a  civic  standing,  and  so  he  peti- 
tioned the  court  at  Les  Andelys  for  a  decree  trans- 
ferring the  record  of  his  baptism  from  the  registry 
of  the  presbytery  to  that  of  the  mayor's  office,  and 
there  he  obtained  an  amendment  on  asking  that 
they  would  add  to  the  record  the  name  of  Du  Tillet, 
by  which  he  had  been  making  himself  known,  in 
virtue  of  the  fact  of  his  situation  in  the  parish. 
Fatherless  and  motherless,  without  any  guardian  but 
the  imperial  procurator,  alone  in  the  world,  owing 
nothing  to  anybody,  he  treated  society  as  Turk 
would  treat  Moor,  in  finding  it  but  a  harsh  step- 
mother; he  knew  no  other  guide  than  self-interest, 


IN   HIS  GLORY  65 

and  all  the  means  of  acquiring  fortune  seemed  good 
to  him.  This  Norman,  endowed  with  dangerous 
abilities,  added  to  his  desire  for  success  the  very 
serious  defects  with  which,  whether  wrongly  or 
rightly,  the  natives  of  his  province  are  reproached. 
His  wheedling  ways  made  up  for  his  caviling 
disposition,  for  he  was  the  roughest  kind  of  wrangler 
in  a  dispute;  and  while  he  audaciously  questioned  the 
rights  of  others,  he  yielded  none  of  his  own;  he 
kept  his  adversary  to  time,  he  tired  him  out  by  an 
inflexible  will.  His  chief  merit  was  that  of  the 
Scapins  of  the  old  comedy:  he  had  their  fertility  of 
resource,  their  adroitness  in  sailing  close  to  the  law, 
their  itch  for  seizing  what  is  worth  keeping.  Finally, 
he  counted  on  applying  to  his  penury  the  expression 
which  the  Abbe  Terray  used  in  the  name  of  the 
State,  free  to  become  an  honest  man  later  on. 
Gifted  with  restless  activity,  with  military  intrep- 
idity, asking  everybody  to  do  a  good  as  well  as  a  bad 
turn  for  him,  justifying  his  demand  by  the  theory  of 
personal  interest,  he  had  too  much  contempt  for 
men,  believing  them  all  corruptible;  he  was  far  from 
being  too  delicate  regarding  the  choice  of  means,  if 
he  found  them  all  good;  he  too  persistently  regarded 
success  and  money  as  the  discharge  of  the  moral 
mechanism  not  to  succeed  sooner  or  later.  Such  a 
man,  placed  between  the  chain-gang  and  millions, 
was  bound  to  be  vindictive,  imperious,  quick  in 
his  resolves,  but  dissembling  like  a  Cromwell  who 
would  cut  off  Probity's  head.  His  depth  was  con- 
cealed under  a  spirit  of  raillery  and  levity.  A  mere 
5 


66  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

perfumer's  clerk,  he  set  no  bounds  to  his  ambition; 
he  had  taken  in  society  with  one  hateful  glance,  say- 
ing: "  Thou  shalt  be  mine!"  he  had  sworn  to  himself 
not  to  marry  until  he  was  forty;  and  he  kept  his 
word.  Physically  Ferdinand  was  a  lank  young 
man,  of  pleasing  mien  and  of  mixed  manners  that 
enabled  him  to  assume  at  need  the  tone  of  any 
rank  of  society.  His  sorry  figure  pleased  at  first 
sight;  but,  later  on,  on  becoming  acquainted  with 
him,  one  detected  strange  expressions  that  fix  them- 
selves on  the  surface  of  people  ill  at  ease  with  them- 
selves, or  whose  conscience  murmurs  at  certain 
times.  His  complexion,  quite  pronounced  on  account 
of  his  soft  Norman  skin,  had  a  sickly  hue.  The 
glance  of  his  squinting  eyes  looking  out  from  silvery 
rings  was  furtive,  but  terrible  when  he  directed  it 
straight  at  his  victim.  His  voice  seemed  exhausted  like 
that  of  a  man  who  has  been  speaking  long.  His  thin 
lips  were  not  lacking  in  gracefulness;  but  his  pointed 
nose,  his  slightly  arched  forehead  betrayed  a  racial 
defect.  Finally,  his  hair,  in  color  like  that  of  hair 
dyed  black,  indicated  a  social  half-breed  who  de- 
rived his  intellect  from  a  great  libertine  lord,  his 
baseness  from  a  seduced  peasant  girl,  his  knowledge 
from  an  unfinished  education  and  his  vices  from  his 
devil-may-care  disposition.  Birotteau  learned  with 
the  most  profound  astonishment  that  his  clerk  went 
out  quite  elegantly  attired,  came  back  very  late,  and 
went  to  bankers'  or  notaries'  balls.  These  doings 
displeased  Cesar:  in  his  opinion,  clerks  ought  to 
study  the  books  of  their  business,  and  think  only 


IN   HIS  GLORY  67 

of  their  duties.  The  perfumer  took  exception  to 
frivolity,  he  mildly  reproved  Du  Tillet  for  wearing 
too  fine  linen,  for  having  cards  on  which  his  name 
was  engraved  thus:  F.  DU  TiLLET;  a  style  that,  in 
his  commercial  jurisprudence,  belonged  exclusively 
to  fashionable  people.  Ferdinand  had  come  to  this 
Orgon's  house  with  the  intentions  of  a  Tartuffe;  he 
paid  court  to  Madame  Cesar,  tested  her  conjugal 
fidelity,  and  judged  his  mistress  as  she  herself 
judged  him,  but  with  terrible  promptness.  Though 
discreet,  reserved,  saying  only  what  he  meant,  Du 
Tillet  disclosed  his  opinions  on  men  and  life  in  such 
a  way  as  to  frighten  a  timid  woman  who  shared  her 
husband's  religious  views,  and  regarded  it  as  a  crime 
to  do  the  slightest  wrong  to  one's  neighbor.  Despite 
the  tact  used  by  Madame  Birotteau,  Du  Tillet  guessed 
at  the  contempt  which  he  inspired.  Constance,  to 
whom  Ferdinand  had  written  some  love-letters,  soon 
perceived  a  change  in  her  clerk's  manner,  and  he 
assumed  toward  her  airs  calculated  to  give  the 
idea  of  a  mutual  understanding.  Without  telling 
her  husband  of  her  secret  reasons,  she  advised  him 
to  discharge  Ferdinand.  Birotteau  found  himself  in 
accord  with  his  wife  on  this  point.  The  clerk's  dis- 
missal was  decided  on.  Three  days  before  sending 
him  away,  on  a  Saturday  evening,  Birotteau  took 
the  monthly  account  of  his  cash,  and  found  it  three 
thousand  francs  short.  His  consternation  was  ter- 
rible, less  on  account  of  the  loss  than  of  the  sus- 
picions that  rested  on  three  clerks,  a  cook,  a  shop- 
boy,  and  indentured  workmen.     Who  was  to  be 


68  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

blamed  for  it?  Madame  Birotteau  never  left  her 
desk.  The  clerk  in  charge  of  the  cash  was  a  nephew 
of  Monsieur  Ragon,  named  Popinot,  a  young  man 
of  eighteen,  who  lodged  in  the  house,  and  was  hon- 
esty personified.  His  figures,  disagreeing  with  the 
sum  in  the  drawer,  showed  the  deficit  and  indicated 
that  the  money  was  removed  after  the  balance  had 
been  struck.  The  husband  and  wife  resolved  to  say 
nothing  and  to  watch  the  house. 

Next  day,  Sunday,  they  received  their  friends. 
The  families  that  made  up  this  sort  of  coterie  enter- 
tained each  other  in  turn.  While  playing  bouil- 
lotte,  Roguin  the  notary  placed  on  the  table  some  old 
louis  that  Madame  Cesar  had  received  some  days  be- 
fore from  a  newly-married  woman,  Madame  d'Espard. 

"You  have  rifled  a  poor-box,"  said  the  old  man 
laughing. 

Roguin  said  that  he  had  won  this  money  at  a 
banker's  from  Du  Tillet,  who  unblushingly  con- 
firmed the  notary's  reply.  The  perfumer  turned 
purple.  The  day's  pleasure  ended,  just  as  Ferdi- 
nand was  going  to  bed,  Birotteau  led  him  into  the 
shop,  pretending  that  he  wanted  to  talk  business. 

"  Du  Tillet,"  said  the  good  man  to  him,  "three 
thousand  francs  are  missing  from  my  cash,  and  I  am 
unable  to  fix  suspicion;  the  circumstance  of  the  old 
louis  seems  to  be  too  much  against  you  for  me  not  to 
speak  to  you  of  it:  and  so  we  will  not  go  to  bed 
without  having  found  the  error,  for,  after  all,  it  can 
be  only  an  error.  You  may  indeed  have  taken  some 
part  of  your  allowance  on  account." 


IN  HIS  GLORY  69 

Du  Tillet  said  in  effect  that  he  had  taken  the  louis. 
The  perfumer  went  and  opened  his  ledger,  his 
clerk's  account  was  found  not  to  have  as  yet  been 
debited. 

"I  was  in  a  hurry,  I  asked  Popinot  to  make  a 
record  of  the  amount,"  said  Ferdinand. 

"  Just  so,"  said  Birotteau,  aghast  at  the  Nor- 
man's cool  carelessness,  who  well  understood  the 
good  people  to  whose  house  he  had  come  with  the 
intention  of  making  his  fortune. 

The  perfumer  and  his  clerk  passed  the  night  in 
making  verifications  that  the  worthy  merchant  well 
knew  to  be  useless.  While  passing  up  and  down, 
Cesar  slipped  three  thousand-franc  bank  notes  into 
the  drawer,  fastening  them  to  the  strip  of  the  till, 
then  he  pretended  to  be  overcome  with  fatigue, 
feigned  to  sleep  and  began  snoring.  Du  Tillet 
woke  him  up  with  an  air  of  triumph,  and  affected  a 
transport  of  joy  at  having  thrown  light  on  the  mis- 
take. Next  day  Birotteau  grumbled  publicly  at 
little  Popinot  and  his  wife,  and  assumed  an  air  of 
anger  on  account  of  their  negligence.  A  fortnight 
later  Ferdinand  du  Tillet  got  employment  in  a 
broker's  office.  The  perfumery  business  did  not 
suit  him,  he  said,  he  wanted  to  study  banking.  On 
leaving  Birotteau's  Du  Tillet  spoke  of  Madame 
Cesar  in  a  way  to  make  believe  that  his  employer 
had  dismissed  him  on  account  of  jealousy.  A  few 
months  afterwards  Du  Tillet  came  to  see  his  old 
employer  and  asked  him  to  go  his  security  for  twenty 
thousand  francs,  in  order  to  complete  the  bonds  that 


70  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

were  required  of  him  in  a  transaction  that  was  put- 
ting him  on  the  high  road  to  fortune.  Remarking  the 
surprise  that  Birotteau  showed  at  this  effrontery,  Du 
Tiliet  frowned  and  asked  him  if  he  had  no  confidence 
in  him.  Matifat  and  two  merchants  talking  business 
with  Birotteau  remarked  the  perfumer's  indignation, 
though  he  suppressed  his  wrath  in  their  presence. 
Du  Tiliet  had  perhaps  become  an  honest  man  again, 
his  fall  might  have  been  caused  by  a  mistress  in 
despair  or  by  a  run  of  gambling,  and  to  be  publicly 
scorned  by  an  honest  man  might  throw  into  a  life  of 
crime  and  misfortune  one  who  was  still  young  and 
perhaps  on  the  way  to  repent.  This  angel  then 
took  a  pen  and  put  his  signature  to  Du  Tillet's 
paper,  telling  him  that  he  was  glad  to  do  this  slight 
service  for  a  youth  who  had  been  very  useful  to  him. 
The  blood  rushed  to  his  face  as  he  was  uttering  this 
white  lie.  Du  Tiliet  did  not  brave  this  man's  look, 
and  no  doubt  at  that  moment  vowed  against  him 
that  implacable  hate  which  the  angels  of  darkness 
conceived  against  the  angels  of  light.  Du  Tiliet  so 
cleverly  held  the  pole  while  dancing  on  the  tight-rope 
of  financial  speculations  that  he  was  always  elegant 
and  rich  in  appearance  before  he  became  so  in 
reality.  From  the  time  that  he  began  to  have  a 
carriage  he  never  gave  it  up  ;  he  kept  himself  in  the 
higher  sphere  of  the  gentry  who  mingle  pleasure 
with  business,  making  the  ante-room  of  the  Opera 
an  annex  of  the  Bourse,  the  Turcarets  of  the  time. 
Thanks  to  Madame  Roguin,  whose  acquaintance  he 
made  at  Birotteau's,  he  promptly  moved  among  the 


IN  HIS  GLORY  71 

highest  of  those  engaged  in  financial  affairs.  At 
that  time  Ferdinand  du  Tillet  had  reached  a  degree 
of  prosperity  that  had  nothing  unreal  about  it.  In 
the  best  standing  with  the  Nucingen  house,  into 
which  Roguin  had  gained  him  admittance,  he  at 
once  allied  himself  with  the  Keller  brothers,  with 
the  higher  banking  world.  No  one  knew  whence 
came  to  this  fellow  the  vast  amounts  of  capital 
that  he  kept  in  circulation,  but  his  good  fortune  was 
attributed  to  his  intelligence  and  his  honesty. 

The  Restoration  made  a  somebody  of  Cesar,  from 
whose  mind  naturally  the  whirlwind  of  political 
crises  had  removed  the  memory  of  those  two  domes- 
tic incidents.  The  unchangeable  character  of  his 
royalist  opinions,  to  which  he  had  become  quite 
indifferent  since  he  had  been  wounded,  but  in  which 
he  had  persisted  for  appearance  sake,  the  memory 
of  his  devotedness  in  Vendemiaire,  gained  protection 
for  him  in  high  places,  precisely  because  he  asked 
for  nothing.  He  was  appointed  chief  of  battalion  in 
the  National  Guard,  though  he  could  not  repeat  the 
first  word  of  command.  In  1815  Napoleon,  ever 
hostile  to  Birotteau,  removed  him  from  office. 
During  the  Hundred-Days  Birotteau  became  the 
bugbear  of  the  Liberals  in  his  quartier;  for  only  in 
181 5  began  the  political  divisions  between  merchants, 
until  then  unanimous  in  their  desire  for  peace,  which 
business  needed.  On  the  second  Restoration  the 
royal  government  had  to  recast  the  municipal  body. 
The  Prefect  wanted  to  name  Birotteau  for  Mayor. 
Thanks  to  his  wife,  the  perfumer  accepted  only  the 


72  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

place  of  deputy,  which  made  him  less  prominent. 
This  modesty  greatly  increased  the  esteem  in  which 
he  was  generally  held,  and  gained  for  him  the  friend- 
ship of  the  Mayor,  Monsieur  Flametde  la  Billardiere. 
Birotteau,  who  remembered  seeing  him  come  to  la 
Reine  des  Roses  in  the  days  when  the  shop  served  as 
a  meeting  place  for  the  royalist  conspirators,  himself 
suggested  him  to  the  Prefect  of  the  Seine,  who  con- 
sulted him  on  the  choice  to  be  made.  Monsieur  and 
Madame  Birotteau  were  never  forgotten  in  the 
Mayor's  invitations.  In  fine,  Madame  Cesar  often 
took  up  collections  at  Saint-Roch,  in  pretty  and 
good  company.  La  Billardiere  warmly  supported 
Birotteau  when  there  was  question  of  distributing 
the  crosses  granted  to  the  municipal  body,  alleging 
his  wound  received  at  Saint-Roch,  his  attachment  to 
the  Bourbons  and  the  consideration  in  which  he  was 
held.  The  Ministry,  which,  while  lavishing  the 
Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  in  order  to  undo 
Napoleon's  work,  wished  to  make  creatures  of  its 
own,  and  to  rally  to  the  Bourbons  the  various 
branches  of  trade,  the  men  of  art  and  science, 
accordingly  included  Birotteau  in  the  coming  pro- 
motions. This  favor,  in  harmony  with  Birotteau's 
prominence  in  his  arrondissement,  put  him  in  a 
position  in  which  must  grow  the  ideas  of  a  man  with 
whom  everything  so  far  had  succeeded.  The  news 
of  his  promotion  brought  to  him  by  the  Mayor  was 
the  last  argument  that  decided  the  perfumer  to 
launch  into  the  operation  which  he  had  just  explained 
to  his  wife  in  order  that  he  might  the  more  speedily 


IN  HIS  GLORY  73 

give  up   the   perfumery  business,   and  rise  to  the 
region  of  the  higher  middle-class  of  Paris, 

Cesar  was  then  forty  years  old.  The  work  to 
which  he  had  been  devoting  himself  in  his  factory 
had  brought  him  some  premature  wrinkles,  and  had 
slightly  silvered  the  long  tufted  hair  on  which  the 
pressure  of  his  hat  had  made  a  glossy  curve.  His 
brow,  on  which  his  locks,  by  the  way  they  were  ar- 
ranged, formed  five  tufts,  bespoke  the  simplicity  of 
his  life.  His  heavy  eyebrows  did  not  inspire  dread, 
for  his  blue  eyes  harmonized,  by  their  ever  frank  and 
limpid  look,  with  his  honest  man's  forehead.  His 
nose,  broken  at  birth  and  thick  at  the  end,  gave  him 
the  appearance  of  astonishment  peculiar  to  the  Paris 
quidnuncs.  His  lips  were  very  thick,  and  his  large 
chin  fell  straight  down.  His  face  highly  colored,  of 
square  outline,  presented,  by  the  arrangement  of 
the  wrinkles,  by  the  ensemble  of  his  physiognomy, 
the  ingenuously  shrewd  characteristics  of  the  peas- 
ant. The  general  strength  of  body,  stoutness  of 
limbs,  square  back,  broad  feet,  all  denoted,  more- 
over, the  villager  transplanted  in  Paris.  His  big  and 
hairy  hands,  the  fat  joints  of  his  wrinkled  fingers, 
his  large  square  finger-nails,  would  have  betrayed 
his  origin,  had  not  vestiges  of  it  remained  on  every 
part  of  his  person.  He  had  on  his  lips  the  benevolent 
smile  assumed  by  dealers  when  you  enter  their 
shops;  but  this  commercial  smile  was  the  image  of 
his  interior  contentment  and  was  a  picture  of  the 
state  of  his  sweet  soul.  His  distrust  never  went 
beyond    business,    his    cunning   left    him    on    the 


74  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

threshold  of  the  Bourse  or  when  he  shut  his  ledger. 
Suspicion  was  to  him  what  his  printed  bill-heads 
were,  a  very  necessity  of  trade.  His  figure  pre- 
sented a  sort  of  comic  assurance,  of  foppery  mingled 
with  simplicity,  which  made  him  odd  to  look  at 
while  saving  him  from  a  too  complete  resemblance 
to  the  dull  figure  of  the  Parisian  middle-class  man. 
Without  this  air  of  unaffected  self-admiration  and  of 
faith  in  his  own  personality,  he  would  have  impressed 
one  with  too  much  respect;  thus  he  resembled  man- 
kind in  paying  his  quota  of  ridicule.  When  talking, 
he  habitually  crossed  his  hands  behind  his  back. 
When  he  thought  he  had  said  something  polite  or 
pointed,  he  rose  imperceptibly  on  tip-toe,  twice,  and 
fell  heavily  on  his  heels,  as  if  to  emphasize  his  state- 
ment. At  the  height  of  a  discussion  he  would  some- 
times be  seen  turning  round  abruptly,  taking  a  few 
steps  as  if  he  were  going  in  search  of  objections  and 
returning  brusquely  on  his  adversary.  He  never 
interrupted,  and  often  found  himself  the  victim  of 
that  observance  of  propriety,  for  others  would  seize 
the  opportunity  to  talk,  and  the  good  man  would 
leave  the  place  without  having  been  able  to  say  a 
word.  His  large  experience  in  commercial  affairs 
had  given  him  habits  characterized  by  some  people 
as  manias.  If  a  certain  bill  was  not  paid,  he  turned 
it  over  to  the  constable,  and  took  no  further  concern 
about  it  but  to  receive  the  money,  interest  and 
costs;  the  constable  was  to  persevere  until  the 
merchant  had  failed;  Cesar  then  abandoned  all  pro- 
ceedings, did  not  appear  at  any  meeting  of  creditors, 


IN  HIS  GLORY  75 

and  kept  his  claims.  This  system  and  his  implacable 
contempt  for  bankrupts  he  copied  from  Monsieur 
Ragon,  who,  in  the  course  of  his  commercial  life, 
had  experienced  such  a  great  loss  of  time  in  law- 
suits that  he  regarded  the  small  and  uncertain 
dividend  given  by  settlements  as  amply  compensated 
for  by  the  use  of  the  time  that  was  not  lost  in  going, 
coming,  making  propositions  and  running  after  the 
excuses  of  dishonesty. 

"  If  the  insolvent  is  an  honest  man  and  gets  on 
his  feet  again,  he  will  pay  you,"  said  Monsieur 
Ragon.  "If  he  remains  poor  and  is  simply  unfor- 
tunate, why  torment  him?  If  he  is  a  cheat,  you 
will  never  get  anything.  Your  known  severity 
makes  you  pass  for  being  uncompromising,  and,  as 
it  is  impossible  to  compound  with  you,  as  long  as 
a  man  can  pay  it  is  you  who  will  be  paid." 

Cesar  reached  a  meeting-place  at  the  time  speci- 
fied; but,  ten  minutes  later,  he  left  with  an  inflexi- 
bility that  nothing  could  bend:  and  so  his  punctuality 
made  those  punctual  who  had  business  with  him. 
The  costume  he  had  adopted  agreed  with  his  man- 
ners and  his  physiognomy.  No  power  could  have 
made  him  give  up  the  white  muslin  cravats,  the 
corners  of  which,  embroidered  by  his  daughter  or 
his  wife,  hung  down  from  his  neck.  His  white 
quilted  vest,  buttoned  square,  extended  very  low 
over  his  sufficiently  prominent  paunch,  for  he  was 
slightly  corpulent.  He  wore  blue  trousers,  black  silk 
stockings  and  shoes  with  ribbons,  the  knots  of  which 
often  came  undone.      His    olive-green   frock-coat. 


76  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

always  too  loose,  and  his  broad-brimmed  hat  gave 
him  the  appearance  of  a  Quaker.  When  he  dressed 
for  Sunday  evenings  he  put  on  silk  breeches,  gold- 
buckled  shoes  and  his  inevitable  square  vest,  both 
laps  of  which  he  then  kept  somewhat  open,  so 
as  to  show  the  upper  part  of  his  plaited  shirt-frill. 
His  maroon  cloth  dress-coat  had  broad  lappels  and 
long  skirts.  He  kept  until  1819  two  watch-chains 
that  hung  parallel,  but  he  wore  the  second  only  on 
dress  occasions.  Such  was  Cesar  Birotteau,  a 
worthy  fellow  to  whom  the  mysteries  that  preside 
over  the  birth  of  men  had  denied  the  ability  to  take 
in  the  whole  range  of  both  politics  and  life,  to  rise 
above  the  social  level  in  which  the  middle  class 
lives,  who  in  everything  followed  the  meanderings  of 
routine:  all  his  opinions  had  been  communicated 
to  him,  and  he  applied  them  without  examination. 
Blind  but  good,  by  no  means  unworldly  but  deeply 
religious,  he  had  a  pure  heart.  In  that  heart  shone 
a  single  love,  the  light  and  strength  of  his  life;  for 
his  longing  after  betterment,  the  little  knowledge 
that  he  had  acquired,  all  came  from  his  affection  for 
his  wife  and  daughter. 

As  regards  Madame  Cesar,  then  thirty-seven  years 
old,  she  so  perfectly  resembled  the  Venus  of  Milo 
that  all  those  who  knew  her  saw  her  portrait  in  this 
beautiful  statue  when  the  Due  de  Riviere  sent  it. 
In  a  few  months  sorrows  so  readily  impressed  their 
yellow  tints  on  her  blooming  fair  complexion,  so 
cruelly  hollowed  and  darkened  the  bluish  circle  in 
which  her  fine  green  eyes  sparkled,  that  she  had  the 


IN  HIS  GLORY  -j-j 

appearance  of  an  old  Madonna;  for  she  ever  retained, 
amid  her  ruins,  a  sweet  candor,  a  pure  though  sad 
look,  and  it  was  impossible  not  to  consider  her  always 
a  beautiful  woman,  of  a  wise,  modest  bearing  and 
perfect  propriety.  At  the  ball  foreshadowed  by 
Cesar,  she  was,  moreover,  to  enjoy  a  last  splendor 
of  beauty  that  everybody  remarked. 

Every  life  has  its  zenith,  when  causes  operate 
and  are  in  exact  relation  with  results.  This  noon- 
day of  life,  when  the  active  forces  are  in  equilibrium 
and  are  produced  in  all  their  splendor,  is  not  only 
common  to  organized  beings,  but  also  to  cities, 
nations,  ideas,  institutions,  branches  of  trade,  enter- 
prises that,  like  noble  races  and  dynasties,  begin, 
rise  and  fall.  Whence  comes  the  strict  rule  by 
which  this  germ  of  growth  and  decline  is  applied  to 
all  that  is  organized  here  below.!*  for  death  also 
has,  in  times  of  scourge,  its  progress,  its  relaxation, 
its  recrudescence  and  its  sleep.  Our  globe  itself  is 
perhaps  a  rocket  that  is  a  little  more  durable  than  the 
rest.  History,  repeating  the  causes  of  the  pros- 
perity and  decline  of  all  that  has  been  here  below, 
might  warn  man  of  the  moment  when  the  play  of  all 
his  faculties  is  to  stop;  but  neither  conquerors,  nor 
actors,  nor  women,  nor  authors  listen  to  the  salutary 
warning.  Cesar  Birotteau,  who  might  have  con- 
sidered himself  as  having  attained  the  zenith  of  his 
fortune,  took  this  time  for  stopping  as  a  new  starting- 
point.  He  knew  not,  and  moreover  neither  nations, 
nor  kings,  have  tried  to  write  in  ineffaceable 
characters  the  cause  of  those  upheavals  with  which 


78  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

history  is  full,  of  which  such  striking  examples  are 
presented  by  so  many  sovereign  or  commercial 
houses.  Why  should  not  new  pyramids  incessantly 
recall  this  principle,  which  ought  to  dominate  the 
policies  of  nations  as  well  as  of  individuals:  When 
the  effect  produced  is  no  longer  in  direct  relation  or  in 
equal  proportion  to  its  cause,  disorgani:{ation  begins ! 
But  these  monuments  exist  everywhere,  they  are 
the  traditions  and  the  stones  that  speak  to  us  of  the 
past,  that  commemorate  the  caprices  of  indomitable 
destiny,  whose  hand  effaces  our  dreams  and  proves 
to  us  that  the  greatest  events  are  summed  up  in 
an  idea.  Troy  and  Napoleon  are  only  poems.  May 
this  history  be  the  poem  of  the  middle-class  vicissi- 
tudes of  which  no  voice  has  thought  of  singing,  so 
devoid  of  grandeur  do  they  seem,  while  for  the  same 
reason  they  are  stupendous:  it  is  not  a  question  of 
any  one  particular  man  here,  but  of  a  whole  people 
of  sorrows. 


While  Cesar  was  going  to  sleep  he  feared  that 
on  the  morrow  his  wife  would  raise  some  peremptory 
objections,  and  so  he  prepared  to  get  up  very  early 
in  order  to  settle  everything.  At  break  of  day,  then, 
he  got  up  noiselessly,  left  his  wife  in  bed,  dressed 
quickly  and  went  down  to  the  shop  just  as  the  boy 
was  taking  off  the  numbered  shutters.  Birotteau, 
seeing  that  he  was  alone,  waited  for  his  clerks  to  get 
up,  and  stood  on  his  doorstep  examining  how  his 
utility  boy,  who  was  named  Raguet,  was  doing  his 
work,  and  Birotteau  knew  all  about  it!  Though 
cold,  the  weather  was  superb. 

"  Popinot,  go  bring  me  my  hat,  put  on  your  shoes, 
send  Monsieur  Celestin  down,  we  are  going  to  chat 
together  at  the  Tuileries,"  said  he,  seeing  Anselme 
coming  down. 

Popinot,  that  admirable  reverse  of  Du  Tillet, 
whom  one  of  those  lucky  accidents  that  make  us 
believe  in  a  sub-Providence  had  placed  close  to  Cesar, 
plays  so  important  a  part  in  this  history  that  it  is 
necessary  to  outline  him  briefly  here.  Madame 
Ragon  was  a  Mademoiselle  Popinot.  She  had  two 
brothers.  One,  the  youngest  of  the  family,  was 
then  associate  judge  in  the  committing  court  of  the 
Seine.  The  eldest  had  gone  into  the  raw  wool 
business,  had  sunk  his  fortune  in  it,  and  died  leav- 
ing to  the  charge  of  the  Ragons  and  his  brother  the 

(79) 


80  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

judge,  who  had  no  children,  his  only  son,  who  had 
already  lost  his  mother,  she  having  died  in  child- 
birth. To  give  a  start  to  her  nephew,  Madame 
Ragon  had  placed  him  in  the  perfumery  business, 
hoping  to  see  him  succeed  Birotteau.  Anselme 
Popinot  was  small  and  club-footed,  an  infirmity  that 
chance  gave  to  Lord  Byron,  Sir  Walter  Scott  and 
Talleyrand,  so  as  not  to  discourage  those  who  are 
similarly  afflicted.  He  had  that  bright  and  freckled 
complexion  for  which  red-haired  people  are  remark- 
able; but  his  clear  brow,  his  gray  veined  agate- 
colored  eyes,  his  fine  mouth,  his  clear  complexion 
and  the  grace  of  a  modest  youth,  the  timidity 
inspired  in  him  by  his  physical  defect,  gave  rise  to 
substantial  friendly  feeling  in  his  favor:  people 
love  the  weak.  Popinot  was  interesting.  Little  Pop- 
inot, everybody  so  called  him,  belonged  to  an  essen- 
tially religious  family,  in  which  virtue  was  marked  by 
intelligence,  whose  life  was  modest  and  filled  with 
good  deeds.  And  so  the  child,  reared  by  his  uncle, 
the  judge,  had  combined  in  him  the  qualities  that 
make  youth  so  beautiful:  wise  and  affectionate,  a 
little  backward,  but  full  of  ardor,  mild  as  a  lamb,  but 
not  afraid  of  work,  devoted,  sober,  he  was  endowed 
with  all  the  virtues  of  a  Christian  of  the  early  ages 
of  the  Church,  Hearing  mention  made  of  a  walk  to 
the  Tuileries,  the  most  eccentric  proposition  that  his 
imposing  employer  could  make  at  that  hour,  Popinot 
felt  that  he  wanted  to  talk  with  him  on  business. 
The  clerk  suddenly  thought  of  Cesarine,  the  real 
queen  of  roses,  the  living  sign  of  the  house,  and  by 


IN  HIS  GLORY  8l 

whom  he  had  been  smitten  the  very  day  on  which, 
two  months  before  Du  Tillet,  he  had  entered 
Birotteau's.  While  going  up  stairs  he  was,  then, 
obliged  to  stop,  his  heart  was  too  full,  his  arteries 
were  beating  too  violently;  he  soon  came  down  fol- 
lowed by  Celestin,  Birotteau's  chief  clerk.  Anselme 
and  his  employer  walked  towards  the  Tuileries 
without  saying  a  word.  Popinot  was  then  twenty- 
one,  and  Birotteau  had  married  at  this  age.  Anselme 
accordingly  saw  no  bar  to  his  marrying  Cesarine, 
though  the  perfumer's  fortune  and  his  daughter's 
beauty  were  immense  obstacles  in  the  way  of  such 
an  ambitious  wish  being  carried  out;  but  love  pro- 
ceeds by  bounds  of  hope,  and  the  wilder  they  are, 
the  more  faith  is  placed  in  them;  and  so,  the  farther 
his  mistress  was  from  him,  the  keener  were  his 
desires.  Happy  youth  who,  at  a  time  of  universal 
leveling,  when  all  hats  are  alike,  succeeded  in 
creating  distances  between  a  perfumer's  daughter 
and  himself,  the  scion  of  an  old  Parisian  family!  In 
spite  of  his  doubts  and  his  uneasiness,  he  was  happy: 
he  dined  every  day  with  Cesarine!  Then,  applying 
himself  to  the  affairs  of  the  house,  he  did  so  with  a 
zeal,  an  ardor,  that  robbed  work  of  all  its  bitterness; 
by  doing  everything  in  Cesarine's  name,  he  was 
never  tired,  in  a  young  man  of  twenty  love  feeds 
on  devotion. 

"He  will  be  a  merchant,  he  will  succeed,"  said 

Cesar  of  him  to  Madame  Ragon,  boasting  of  Anselme's 

activity  about  the  stock  of  the  factory,  praising  his 

aptitude  in   relation  to  the  fine  points  of  the  art, 

6 


82  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

recalling  the  eagerness  of  his  work  at  the  times  when 
shipments  were  to  be  made,  and  when,  his  sleeves 
rolled  up,  his  arms  bare,  the  lame  youth  boxed  and 
nailed  up,  by  himself  alone,  more  cases  than  did  all 
the  other  clerks. 

The  known  and  acknowledged  pretensions  of  Alex- 
andre Crottat,  Roguin's  chief  clerk,  the  fortune  owned 
by  his  father,  a  rich  farmer  of  La  Brie,  were  very 
serious  obstacles  in  the  way  of  the  orphan's  triumph; 
but  these  difficulties  were  not  the  hardest  to  over- 
come: in  the  bottom  of  his  heart  Popinot  buried  fad 
secrets  that  increased  the  distance  between  Cesarine 
and  himself.  The  Ragon's  estate,  on  which  he 
might  have  counted,  had  become  impaired;  it  was 
the  orphan's  good  luck  to  help  them  to  live  by 
giving  them  his  meagre  salary.  Yet  he  believed  in 
success!  Several  times  had  he  caught  glances  cast 
on  him  with  apparent  pride  by  Cesarine;  in  the 
depths  of  her  blue  eyes  he  had  dared  to  read  a 
secret  thought  full  of  caressing  hopes.  He  walked 
on,  then,  worked  up  by  his  hope  of  the  moment, 
trembling,  silent,  moved,  as  in  such  circumstances 
might  be  all  the  young  folk  for  whom  life  is  budding. 

"  Popinot,"  said  the  good  tradesman  to  him,  "is 
your  aunt  well?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Yet  for  some  time  past  she  has  seemed  care- 
worn; can  she  have  any  secret  trouble?  Listen  to 
me,  boy,  you  must  not  be  mysterious  with  me,  I  am 
as  it  were  a  member  of  the  family,  it  is  twenty-five 
years  since  I  first  made  the  acquaintance  of   your 


IN  HIS  GLORY  83 

uncle,  Ragon.  I  entered  his  house  in  heavy  iron- 
tipped  shoes,  on  my  arrival  from  my  native  village. 
Though  the  place  is  called  Les  Tresori^res,  all  I  had 
was  one  gold  louis  given  to  me  by  my  godmother,  the 
late  Marquise  d'Uxelles,  a  relative  of  the  Due  and 
Duchesse  de  Lenoncourt,  who  are  regular  customers 
of  ours.  And  so  I  have  prayed  every  Sunday  for 
her  and  her  whole  family;  her  niece  in  Touraine, 
Madame  deMortsauf,  I  supply  with  all  her  perfumery, 
I  am  constantly  getting  customers  through  them,  as 
for  example  Monsieur  de  Vandenesse,  who  takes 
twelve  hundred  francs'  worth  a  year.  One  should 
be  grateful  not  merely  from  kindness  of  heart,  but 
should  purposely  be  so:  and  I  wish  you  well  un- 
reservedly and  for  your  own  sake." 

"Oh!  sir,  you  had,  if  you  allow  me  to  say  so, 
a  proud  head!" 

**  No,  my  boy,  no,  that  does  not  suffice.  I  do  not 
say  that  my  pate  is  not  as  good  as  the  next,  but  I 
had  probity,  tenacity !  I  have  had  behavior,  I  have 
never  loved  any  woman  but  my  wife.  Love  is  a 
famous  vehicle,  a  happy  word  that  Monsieur  de 
Vill^le  used  yesterday  in  the  tribune." 

"Love!"  said  Popinot,  "Oh!  sir,  is  it  that—?" 

"  Look,  see,  there  comes  old  man  Roguin  on  foot 
at  the  upper  end  of  the  Place  Louis  XV,,  at  eight 
o'clock.  What,  then,  is  the  good  man  doing  there  ? ' ' 
Cesar  said  to  himself,  regardless  of  Anselme  Popinot 
and  the  hazelnut  oil. 

His  wife's  suspicions  came  back  to  his  memory, 
and,  instead  of  entering  the  garden  of  the  Tuileries, 


84  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

Birotteau  advanced  towards  the  notary  so  as  to  meet 
him.  Anselme  followed  his  employer  at  a  distance, 
unable  to  explain  the  sudden  interest  that  he  took  in 
an  incident  apparently  of  so  little  importance,  but 
very  happy  at  the  encouragement  he  found  in  what 
Cesar  had  said  about  his  iron-tipped  shoes,  his  gold 
louis  and  love. 

Roguin,  a  tall  and  stout  pimpled  man,  very  bald  in 
front  and  black  haired,  must  have  been  rather  hand- 
some in  early  life;  he  had  been  energetic  when 
young,  for,  from  being  a  minor  clerk,  he  had  become 
a  notary;  but  at  this  moment  his  countenance  pre- 
sented, in  the  eyes  of  a  shrewd  observer,  the  marks 
and  fatigues  of  courted  pleasures.  When  a  man 
plunges  into  the  mire  of  excesses,  it  is  not  easy  for 
him  to  avoid  getting  soiled  somewhere:  and  so  there 
was  no  nobility  in  Roguin's  wrinkles  and  florid  com- 
plexion. Instead  of  that  clear  hue  which  lights  up 
the  tissues  of  continent  men  and  makes  them  look 
the  picture  of  health,  one  could  see  in  him  that  his 
blood  had  been  tainted  by  acts  at  which  the  body 
winces.  He  had  an  ignobly  turned-up  nose,  like 
that  of  people  in  whom  the  humors,  going  the  way 
of  this  organ,  produce  a  secret  infirmity  which  a 
virtuous  queen  of  France  artlessly  thought  was  a 
misfortune  common  to  the  species,  as  she  had  never 
approached  any  other  man  than  the  king  close 
enough  to  discover  her  error.  By  taking  Spanish 
snuff  copiously  Roguin  imagined  he  could  cover  up 
this  shortcoming,  but  he  only  intensified  its  draw- 
backs, which  were  the  chief  cause  of  his  misery. 


IN   HIS    GLORY  85 

Is  not  social  flattery  rather  too  long-drawn-out 
when  it  is  forever  painting  men  in  false  colors,  and 
does  not  allow  any  of  the  true  principles  of  their 
vicissitudes,  so  often  due  to  disease,  to  be  revealed? 
Physical  ill-doing,  considered  in  its  moral  ravages, 
examined  in  its  influences  on  the  mechanism  of  life, 
has  so  far  perhaps  been  too  much  neglected  by  the 
historians  of  morals.  Madame  Cesar  had  a  clear 
insight  of  the  family  secret. 

Ever  since  the  first  night  of  her  married  life 
Banker  Chevrel's  charming  only  daughter  had  con- 
ceived an  insuperable  antipathy  to  the  poor  notary, 
and  wanted  to  apply  at  once  for  a  divorce.  Too 
happy  at  having  a  woman  worth  five  hundred 
thousand  francs,  without  taking  account  of  hopes, 
Roguin  had  entreated  his  wife  not  to  bring  a  divorce 
suit,  leaving  her  free  and  abiding  by  all  the  con- 
sequences of  such  a  bargain.  Madame  Roguin, 
having  become  sovereign  mistress,  acted  towards  her 
husband  as  a  courtesan  towards  an  old  lover.  Roguin 
soon  found  his  wife  too  costly,  and,  like  many  Paris- 
ian husbands,  he  began  to  consort  with  another 
woman.  Keeping  at  first  within  prudent  limits,  this 
outlay  was  moderate. 

In  the  beginning  Roguin  found,  at  little  cost, 
coquettes  of  low  degree  who  were  very  glad  of  his 
patronage;  but  for  three  years  past  he  had  been  a 
prey  to  one  of  those  indomitable  passions  that  seize 
upon  men  between  the  ages  of  fifty  and  sixty,  and 
the  object  of  which  was  one  of  the  most  magnificent 
creatures   of   that   time,    known  in    the   annals   of 


86  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

prostitution  by  the  nickname  of  the  Dutch  Beauty,  for 
she  was  destined  to  fall  back  into  that  gulf  in  which 
death  made  her  famous.  She  had  formerly  been 
brought  from  Bruges  to  Paris  by  one  of  Roguin's 
clients,  who,  forced  to  fly  in  consequence  of  political 
events,  made  him  a  present  of  her  in  1815.  The 
notary  had  bought  for  his  mistress  a  small  house  in 
the  Champs-Elysees,  had  furnished  it  handsomely, 
and  allowed  himself  to  be  drawn  on  to  satisfy  the 
costly  caprices  of  this  woman,  whose  lavishness 
absorbed  his  fortune. 

The  gloomy  expression  imprinted  on  Roguin's 
physiognomy,  and  which  was  dispelled  when  he  saw 
his  client,  was  due  to  mysterious  events  in  which 
were  to  be  found  the  secrets  of  the  fortune  so  rapidly 
made  by  Du  Tillet.  The  plan  formed  by  Du  Tillet 
changed  from  the  very  first  Sunday  on  which  he  was 
enabled  to  observe,  in  his  employer's  household,  the 
respective  relations  of  Monsieur  and  Madame  Roguin. 
He  had  come  less  to  test  Madame  Cesar's  conjugal 
fidelity  than  to  make  her  offer  Cesarine's  hand  as  an 
indemnity  for  a  checked  passion,  and  he  had  so  much 
the  less  difficulty  in  giving  up  the  idea  of  this 
marriage  as  he  had  thought  Cesar  rich  and  found 
him  poor.  He  played  spy  on  the  notary,  insinuated 
himself  into  his  confidence,  had  himself  introduced 
at  the  Dutch  Beauty's  house,  there  studied  on  what 
terms  she  was  with  Roguin,  and  learned  that  she 
offered  to  thank  her  lover  if  he  were  less  exuberant 
to  her.  The  Dutch  Beauty  was  one  of  those  foolish 
women   who   are    never    disturbed    about   whence 


IN  HIS  GLORY  87 

money  comes  or  how  it  is  acquired,  and  who  would 
give  the  feast  with  the  crowns  furnished  by  a  par- 
ricide. On  the  eve  she  never  thought  of  the 
morrow.  To  her  the  future  was  her  afternoon, 
and  the  end  of  the  month  eternity,  even  when  she 
had  bills  to  pay.  Delighted  at  finding  a  first  lever, 
Du  Tillet  began  by  getting  the  Dutch  Beauty  to 
admit  that  she  loved  Roguin  for  thirty  thousand 
francs  a  year  instead  of  fifty  thousand,  a  service  that 
rakish  old  men  rarely  forget. 

At  last,  after  a  supper  liberal  in  wine,  Roguin 
opened  his  mind  to  Du  Tillet  on  his  financial 
crisis.  His  real  estate  having  been  absorbed  by 
mortgage  to  his  wife,  he  had  been  led  by  his  passion 
to  take  from  his  clients'  funds  a  sum  that  already 
amounted  to  more  than  half  of  what  his  office  was 
worth.  When  the  rest  should  be  eaten  up,  the 
unfortunate  Roguin  would  blow  out  his  brains,  for  he 
thought  he  could  diminish  the  horror  of  failure  by 
appealing  to  public  pity.  Du  Tillet  saw  an  early  and 
safe  fortune  shining  like  a  flash  in  the  night's 
drunken  bout,  he  reassured  Roguin  and  paid  him  for 
his  confidence  by  making  him  fire  off  his  pistols  in 
the  air. 

"In  such  jeopardy,"  he  said  to  him,  "a  man  of 
your  ability  ought  not  to  behave  like  a  fool  and 
walk  haltingly,  but  act  boldly." 

He  advised  him  to  take  a  large  sum  at  once,  to 
entrust  it  to  him  so  that  it  could  be  boldly  played  in 
some  operation  or  other  on  the  Bourse,  or  in  some 
speculation  chosen  from  among   the  thousand  and 


88  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

one  that  were  being  undertaken  at  that  time.  In 
case  of  gain,  both  of  them  would  together  found  a 
banking  house  in  which  they  would  make  use  of  the 
deposits,  and  the  profits  of  which  would  serve  him  in 
satisfying  his  passion.  If  chance  turned  against 
them,  Roguin  would  go  and  live  abroad,  instead  of 
killing  himself,  because  his  Du  Tillet  would  be 
faithful  to  him  as  long  as  there  was  a  sou  left.  It 
was  a  rope  within  reach  of  a  man  who  was  drowning, 
and  Roguin  did  not  perceive  that  the  perfumer's 
clerk  was  adjusting  it  around  his  neck. 

Once  master  of  Roguin's  secret,  Du  Tillet  made 
use  of  it  to  bring  into  his  power  wife,  mistress  and 
husband  at  one  and  the  same  time.  Forewarned  of 
a  disaster  that  she  was  far  from  suspecting,  Madame 
Roguin  accepted  the  attentions  of  Du  Tillet,  who 
then  left  the  perfumer's  sure  of  his  future.  He  had 
no  difficulty  in  persuading  the  mistress  to  risk  a  cer- 
tain sum,  so  as  never  to  be  obliged  to  have  recourse 
to  prostitution  should  any  misfortune  befall  her. 
The  wife  put  her  affairs  in  order,  promptly  got 
together  a  small  amount  of  capital  and  gave  it  to  a 
man  in  whom  her  husband  trusted,  for  the  notary 
first  gave  a  hundred  thousand  francs  to  his  accom- 
plice. Placed  close  to  Madame  Roguin  so  as  to 
change  this  pretty  woman's  interest  into  affection, 
Du  Tillet  knew  how  to  inspire  her  with  a  most 
violent  passion.  His  three  silent  partners  were 
naturally  of  some  account  to  him;  but,  not  satisfied 
with  this,  he  had  the  audacity,  while  making  them 
gamble  on  the  Bourse,  to  have  an  understanding 


IN  HIS  GLORY  8g 

with  an  adversary  who  gave  him  back  the  amount  of 
the  supposed  losses,  for  he  was  playing  both  for  his 
clients  and  for  himself.  As  soon  as  he  had  fifty 
thousand  francs,  he  was  sure  of  making  a  great  for- 
tune; he  turned  the  eagle  glance  that  was  character- 
istic of  him  on  the  vicissitudes  that  were  then  rife  in 
France:  he  played  low  during  the  French  campaign, 
and  high  on  the  return  of  the  Bourbons.  Two 
months  after  the  restoration  of  Louis  XVIII.,  Madame 
Roguin  was  worth  two  hundred  thousand  francs,  and 
Du  Tillet  a  hundred  thousand  crowns.  The  notary, 
in  whose  estimation  this  young  man  was  an  angel, 
had  restored  equilibrium  in  his  affairs.  The  Dutch 
Beauty  squandered  all;  she  was  a  prey  to  a  nasty 
cancer,  named  Maxime  de  Trailles,  formerly  page 
to  the  Emperor.  Du  Tillet  found  out  this  woman's 
real  name  while  engaged  with  her  on  one  occasion. 
She  was  called  Sarah  Gobseck.  Struck  by  the 
coincidence  of  this  name  with  that  of  a  usurer  of 
whom  he  had  heard  spoken,  he  went  to  this  old  note- 
shaver's  office,  the  providence  of  young  spendthrifts 
of  good  family,  just  to  find  out  how  far  the  credit  of 
his  female  relative  could  be  made  to  go  with  him. 
The  Brutus  of  usurers  was  implacable  towards  his 
grand-niece,  but  Du  Tillet  knew  how  to  please  him 
by  posing  as  Sarah's  banker,  and  as  having  capital 
to  put  in  circulation.  The  Norman  and  the  usurer 
natures  agreed  with  each  other.  Gobseck  found 
that  he  needed  a  shrewd  young  man  to  supervise  a 
small  operation  abroad.  An  auditor  in  the  Council 
of  State,  taken  by  surprise   on   the  return  of  the 


90  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

Bourbons,  had  conceived  the  idea,  in  order  to  put 
himself  in  good  standing  at  court,  to  go  to  Germany 
for  the  purpose  of  buying  the  titles  to  the  debts  con- 
tracted by  the  princes  during  their  exile.  He  offered 
the  profits  of  this  affair,  to  him  purely  political,  to 
those  who  would  put  up  the  necessary  capital.  The 
usurer  did  not  want  to  part  with  the  money  but  just 
as  the  purchase  of  credits  took  place,  and  wished  to 
have  them  examined  by  an  expert  representing  him. 
Usurers  trust  nobody,  they  want  security,  with  them 
opportunity  is  everything:  icy  cold  when  they  have 
no  need  of  a  man,  they  are  artful  and  kindly  dis- 
posed when  they  want  to  use  him.  Du  Tillet  knew 
of  the  important  part  played  on  change  in  Paris  by 
the  Werbrusts  and  the  Gigonnets,  discounters  to 
the  trade  of  the  Rues  Saint-Denis  and  Saint-Martin; 
by  Palma,  the  banker  of  the  Faubourg  Poissonniere, 
nearly  always  interested  with  Gobseck.  He  ac- 
cordingly offered  cash  security  bearing  interest  and 
required  that  these  gentlemen  use  in  their  money- 
dealings  the  funds  that  he  placed  at  their  disposal: 
he  thus  provided  himself  something  to  depend  upon. 
He  accompanied  Monsieur  Clement  Chardin  des 
Lupeaulx  on  a  journey  to  Germany  that  lasted 
during  the  Hundred-Days,  and  returned  at  the 
second  Restoration,  having  increased  the  elements 
of  his  fortune  more  than  his  fortune  itself  amounted 
to.  He  had  won  his  way  into  the  secrets  of  the 
shrewdest  calculators  of  Paris,  he  had  won  the 
friendship  of  the  man  whose  agent  he  was,  for  this 
skilful  thimble-rigger  had  revealed  to  him  the  ways 


IN  HIS  GLORY  91 

and  jurisprudence  of  politics  in  high  places.  Du 
Tillet  was  one  of  those  spirits  to  whom  a  nod  is  as 
good  as  a  wink,  he  completed  his  education  during 
this  journey.  On  his  return  he  found  Madame 
Roguin  faithful.  As  for  the  poor  notary,  he  was 
awaiting  Ferdinand  with  as  much  impatience  as  his 
wife  showed,  for  the  Dutch  Beauty  had  ruined  him 
once  more.  Du  Tillet  questioned  the  Dutch  Beauty, 
and  did  not  find  an  outlay  equivalent  to  the  sums 
squandered.  Du  Tillet  then  discovered  the  secret 
that  Sarah  Gobseck  had  so  carefully  concealed  from 
him,  her  unbridled  passion  for  Maxime  de  Trailles, 
whose  start  in  his  career  of  vice  and  debauchery 
told  what  he  was,  one  of  those  political  vagabonds 
necessary  to  every  good  government,  and  rendered 
insatiable  by  gambling.  In  making  this  discovery, 
Du  Tillet  understood  Gobseck's  obduracy  towards 
his  grand-niece,  in  these  circumstances  Banker  Du 
Tillet,  for  he  had  become  a  banker,  strenuously 
advised  Roguin  to  provide  for  a  rainy  day,  to  engage 
his  richest  clients  in  a  matter  in  which  he  could  keep 
large  sums  to  himself  if  he  were  doomed  to  failure  on 
resuming  the  banking  game.  After  some  rises  and 
falls,  profitable  only  to  Du  Tillet  and  Madame 
Roguin,  the  notary  at  last  heard  the  knell  of  his 
discomfiture.  His  agony  was  then  turned  to  advan- 
tage by  his  best  friend.  Du  Tillet  invented  the 
speculation  in  relation  to  the  land  situated  around  the 
Madeleine.  Naturally  the  hundred  thousand  francs 
deposited  by  Birotteau  with  Roguin,  awaiting  an 
investment,  were  entrusted  to  Du  Tillet,  who,  as  he 


92  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

wanted  to  ruin  the  perfumer,  gave  Roguin  to  under- 
stand that  he  was  running  less  risk  by  catching  his 
closest  friends  in  his  net. 

"  A  friend,"  he  said  to  him,  "  is  lenient  with  you 
even  in  his  wrath." 

Few  persons  now  know  how  little  a  square  yard  of 
the  land  around  the  Madeleine  would  bring  at  that 
time,  but  the  value  of  that  land  was  going  to  advance 
far  beyond  what  it  was  at  the  time,  and  necessarily 
so,  because  of  the  need  of  finding  investors  who 
would  take  advantage  of  the  opportunity;  now,  Du 
Tillet  wanted  to  be  in  a  position  to  reap  the  benefit 
without  the  losses  of  a  long-term  speculation.  In 
other  words,  his  plan  consisted  in  so  handling  the 
affair  as  to  have  it  regarded  as  a  corpse  that  he 
knew  he  could  resuscitate.  In  such  case  the  Gob- 
seeks,  the  Palmas,  the  Werbrusts  and  the  Gigonnets 
naturally  lent  a  hand  to  one  another;  but  Du  Tillet 
was  not  intimate  enough  with  them  to  ask  their  aid; 
moreover,  he  was  so  anxious  to  conceal  his  hand, 
while  at  the  same  time  managing  the  affair,  that  he 
could  reap  the  benefit  of  the  theft  without  incurring 
blame  for  it;  accordingly  he  felt  the  necessity  of 
making  use  of  one  of  those  living  puppets  called 
straw  men  in  commercial  language.  His  supposed 
gambler  at  the  Bourse  seemed  to  him  fit  to  become 
his  scape-goat,  and  he  usurped  divine  right  by 
creating  a  man.  Out  of  a  former  commercial  trav- 
eler, devoid  of  both  means  and  capacity,  except 
that  of  talking  indefinitely  on  all  sorts  of  subjects 
while  saying  nothing,  entirely  without  money,  but 


IN   HIS   GLORY  93 

capable  of  understanding  a  part  and  playing  it 
without  spoiling  the  piece,  full  of  the  rarest  honor, 
that  is  to  say,  able  to  keep  a  secret  and  to  allow 
himself  to  be  dishonored  for  the  benefit  of  his  em- 
ployer, Du  Tillet  made  a  banker  who  undertook  and 
directed  the  greatest  enterprises;  the  head  of  the 
Claparon  house.  Charles  Claparon's  destiny  was 
to  be  one  day  delivered  over  to  the  Jews  and  the 
Pharisees,  if  the  venture  launched  by  Du  Tillet 
should  end  in  failure,  and  Claparon  knew  it.  But 
for  a  poor  devil  that  in  melancholy  mood  was  tramp- 
ing the  boulevards  with  a  future  of  forty  sous  in  his 
pocket  when  his  comrade  Du  Tillet  met  him,  the 
small  share  that  was  to  be  turned  over  to  him  in 
each  transaction  was  an  Eldorado.  Thus  his  friend- 
ship, his  devotedness  to  Du  Tillet,  corroborated  by 
an  unreflecting  gratitude,  stimulated  by  the  needs 
of  a  licentious  and  desultory  life,  made  him  say 
Amen  to  everything.  Then,  after  having  sold  his 
honor,  he  saw  him  take  risks  so  prudently  that  he 
at  last  became  attached  to  his  former  comrade  as  a 
dog  to  its  master.  Claparon  was  a  very  ugly  poodle, 
but  ever  ready  to  do  the  Curtius  leap.  In  the 
present  combination  he  was  to  represent  half  of  the 
purchasers  of  the  land,  as  Cesar  Birotteau  would 
represent  the  other  half.  The  notes  that  Claparon 
would  receive  from  Birotteau  would  be  discounted 
by  one  of  the  usurers  whose  name  Du  Tillet  could 
use  so  as  to  precipitate  Birotteau  into  the  abyss  of 
bankruptcy,  when  Roguin  would  run  away  with 
his    money.      Those   appointed    to    adjudicate    the 


94  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

bankruptcy  would  act  in  accordance  with  Du  Tiliet's 
inspirations,  and  the  latter,  in  possession  of  the 
money  given  by  the  perfumer  and  his  creditor  under 
different  names,  would  have  the  land  put  up  at 
auction  and  buy  it  in  for  half  its  value,  paying  for  it 
with  Roguin's  capital  and  the  dividend  of  the  bank- 
ruptcy. The  notary  put  his  finger  in  the  pie,  think- 
ing he  would  get  a  good  part  of  the  perfumer's 
valuable  spoils  and  those  of  the  people  interested 
with  him;  but  the  man  to  whose  discretion  he  was 
giving  himself  up  would,  and  did,  take  the  lion's 
share.  Roguin,  not  having  it  in  his  power  to  prose- 
cute Du  Tillet  in  any  court,  was  satisfied  with  the 
bone  given  him  to  gnaw,  from  month  to  month,  in 
his  retreat  in  Switzerland,  where  he  found  beauties 
at  a  discount.  Circumstances,  and  not  the  medita- 
tions of  a  writer  of  tragedy  inventing  an  intrigue, 
had  begotten  this  horrible  scheme.  Hate  without 
the  desire  for  revenge  is  a  grain  fallen  on  granite; 
but  the  vengeance  vowed  against  Cesar  by  Du  Tillet 
was  one  of  the  most  natural  of  developments,  or  we 
must  deny  the  quarrel  between  the  accursed  angels 
and  the  angels  of  light.  Du  Tillet  could  not  without 
great  inconvenience  assassinate  the  only  man  in 
Paris  who  knew  him  to  be  guilty  of  a  domestic 
theft,  but  he  could  throw  him  in  the  mire  and 
annihilate  him  in  a  way  that  would  make  his  testi- 
mony impossible.  For  a  long  time  his  vengeance 
had  germinated  in  his  heart  without  flowering,  for 
the  most  spiteful  people  do  very  little  planning  at 
Paris;    life  is  too  hurried  there,  too  excited,  there 


IN  HIS  GLORY  Q5 

are  too  many  unforeseen  accidents;  yet  these  per- 
petual oscillations,  if  they  do  not  allow  of  premedita- 
tion, give  most  timely  aid  to  a  thought  stowed 
away  at  the  bottom  of  the  politic  heart  that  is 
strong  enough  to  lie  in  wait  for  favorable  circum- 
stances. When  Roguin  took  Du  Tillet  into  his 
confidence,  the  clerk  derived  therefrom  a  vague 
idea  of  the  possibility  of  ruining  Cesar,  and  he 
made  no  mistake.  On  the  point  of  abandoning  his 
idol,  the  notary  drank  his  love-potion  from  the 
broken  cup,  went  every  day  to  the  Champs-Elysees 
and  returned  home  in  the  early  morning.  And  so 
the  distrustful  Madame  Cesar  was  right.  As  soon 
as  a  man  has  resolved  to  play  the  part  that  Du 
Tillet  had  assigned  to  Roguin,  he  acquires  the  talents 
of  the  greatest  comedian,  he  has  the  eye  of  a  lynx 
and  the  penetration  of  a  seer,  he  knows  how  to 
mesmerize  his  dupe;  and  so  the  notary  had  seen 
Birotteau  long  before  Birotteau  saw  him,  and  when 
the  perfumer  looked  at  him  he  had  already  reached 
out  his  hand  from  afar. 

"  I  have  just  been  drawing  up  the  will  of  an 
important  personage  who  has  not  a  week  to  live," 
he  said  with  the  most  natural  air  in  the  world;  "  but 
they  treated  me  like  a  village  doctor,  they  sent  for 
me  with  a  carriage,  and  I  am  returning  on  foot." 

These  words  dispelled  a  slight  cloud  of  distrust 
that  had  darkened  the  perfumer's  brow,  and  which 
Roguin  noticed;  and  so  the  notary  took  good  care 
not  to  be  the  first  to  speak  of  the  matter  of  the  land, 
for  he  wanted  to  give  the  finishing  blow  to  his  victim. 


96  CESAR    BIROTTEAU 

"After  wills,  marriage-contracts,  such  is  life," 
said  Birotteau.  "And  as  regards  that,  when  shall 
we  marry  the  Madeleine,  eh!  eh!  old  man  Roguin?" 
he  added,  tapping  him  on  the  stomach. 

Among  men  the  most  chaste  of  the  middle  class 
pretend  to  seem  wanton. 

"Well,  if  not  to-day,  never,"  replied  the  notary 
with  a  diplomatic  air.  "We  are  afraid  lest  the  affair 
may  be  noised  abroad,  I  have  already  been  urgently 
pressed  by  two  of  my  richest  clients,  who  want  to 
get  into  this  speculation.  And  so  it  is  a  case  of  take 
or  leave.  Immediately  after  midday  I  will  draw  up 
the  deeds,  and  you  will  have  the  privilege  of  being 
in  it  only  until  one  o'clock.  Good-by.  I  am  going 
at  once  to  look  over  the  draft  that  Xandrot  was  to 
have  made  out  for  me  during  the  night." 

"All  right,  so  be  it,  you  have  my  word,"  said 
Birotteau  running  after  the  notary  and  clasping  his 
hand.  "  Take  the  hundred  thousand  francs  that 
were  to  serve  as  my  daughter's  dowry." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Roguin  as  he  moved  away. 

Whilst  Birotteau  was  returning  to  little  Popinot 
he  experienced  a  violent  warmth  in  his  entrails,  his 
diaphragm  became  contracted,  his  ears  tingled. 

"  What  ails  you,  sir?"  asked  the  clerk,  seeing  his 
master's  pale  countenance. 

"Ah!  my  boy,  I  have  just  concluded  a  great 
stroke  of  business  with  a  single  word,  no  one  is 
master  of  his  emotions  in  such  a  case.  Moreover, 
you  are  not  a  stranger  to  it.  And  so  I  have  brought 
you  here  to  talk  of  it  more  at  ease,  as  no  one  will 


IN   HIS  GLORY  97 

hear  us.  Your  aunt  is  in  straitened  circum- 
stances; iiow,  then,  has  she  lost  her  money?  tell 
me." 

"My  uncle  and  aunt,  sir,  have  had  their  money 
at  Monsieur  de  Nucingen's,  they  have  been  com- 
pelled to  take  in  repayment  stock  in  the  Wortschin 
mines,  which  do  not  yet  pay  any  dividend,  and  it  is 
hard  at  their  age  to  live  on  hope." 

"  But  on  what  are  they  living?" 

"  They  have  done  me  the  pleasure  to  accept  my 
salary." 

"  Good,  good,  Anselme,"  said  the  perfumer,  letting 
a  tear  steal  from  his  eyes,  "  you  are  worthy  of  the 
attachment  that  I  have  for  you.  And  so  you  are 
going  to  receive  a  high  reward  for  your  application 
to  my  business." 

While  using  these  words  the  merchant  grew  as 
much  bigger  in  his  own  estimation  as  in  Popinot's;  he 
gave  them  that  middle-class  and  unaffected  emphasis 
that  was  an  expression  of  his  sham  superiority. 

"What?  you  have  seen  into  my  passion  for ?" 

"For  whom?"  asked  the  perfumer. 

"For  Mademoiselle  Cesarine." 

"Ah!  boy,  you  are  quite  bold,"  exclaimed  Birot- 
teau.  "  But  keep  your  secret  very  close,  I  promise 
you  I  will  forget  it,  and  you  will  leave  my  house  to- 
morrow. I  do  not  want  you  in  it;  in  your  place, 
the  deuce!  the  deuce!  I  would  have  done  the  same. 
She  is  so  pretty!" 

"Ah!  sir!"  said  the  clerk,  who  felt  his  shirt  moist, 
from  his  excessive  perspiration. 
7 


98  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

"  My  boy,  this  affair  is  not  the  matter  of  a  day  : 
Cesarine  is  her  own  mistress,  and  her  mother  has 
too  her  ideas.  So  mind  your  own  business,  dry 
your  eyes,  keep  your  heart  in  check,  and  let  us 
never  speak  of  it  again.  I  would  not  be  ashamed 
to  have  you  for  a  son-in-law:  the  nephew  of  Monsieur 
Popinot,  judge  in  the  committing  court ;  the  nephew 
of  the  Ragons,  you  have  the  right  to  go  your  way 
quite  as  much  as  any  one  else;  but  there  are  huts, 
fors,  ifs !  What  a  devil  of  a  dog  you  let  loose  on 
me  in  a  business  conversation  !  Here,  sit  down  on 
this  chair,  and  let  the  lover  make  way  for  the  clerk. 
Popinot,  are  you  a  brave  man  ?"  he  asked,  looking 
at  his  clerk.  "  Do  you  feel  you  have  the  courage 
to  contend  against  some  one  stronger  than  yourself, 
in  a  hand-to-hand  combat — ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  To  keep  up  a  long,  a  dangerous  fight — ?" 

"What  is  it  all  about?" 

"About  freezing  out  Macassar  oil!"  said  Birot- 
teau,  striking  the  attitude  of  one  of  Plutarch's 
heroes.  "  Let  us  not  deceive  ourselves,  the  enemy 
is  strong,  well  intrenched,  quite  formidable.  Macas- 
sar oil  has  been  well  managed.  The  idea  is  clever. 
The  square  vials  are  original  in  form.  For  my  pro- 
ject I  have  thought  of  making  ours  triangular;  but  I 
would  prefer,  after  mature  reflection,  small  thin 
glass  bottles  in  a  reed  casing;  they  would  have  a 
mysterious  appearance,  and  consumers  like  what 
puzzles  them." 

"That  is  expensive,"  said  Popinot.     "It  would 


IN  HIS  GLORY  99 

be  necessary  to  get  up  everything  as  cheap  as  possi- 
ble, so  as  to  make  large  shipments  to  the  retailers." 

"Good,  my  boy,  these  are  the  true  principles. 
Think  well  on  it,  Macassar  oil  will  defend  itself!  It 
is  specious;  it  has  an  attractive  name.  It  is  offered 
as  a  foreign  importation,  and  we  will  have  the  mis- 
fortune of  being  of  our  own  country.  Let  us  see, 
Popinot;  do  you  feel  yourself  strong  enough  to  kill 
Macassar?  In  the  first  place,  you  will  ship  it  abroad; 
it  seems  that  Macassar  is  really  in  the  Indies;  it  is 
more  natural,  then,  to  send  the  French  product  to 
the  Indians  than  to  send  them  what  they  think  they 
have  been  furnishing  to  us.  You  take  hold  of  the 
dealers!  But  we  must  make  a  fight  abroad  and  in 
the  departments!  Now,  Macassar  oil  has  been  well 
advertised,  we  must  not  deceive  ourselves  as  to  its 
power,  it  is  pushed,  the  public  know  it." 

"I  will  freeze  it  out!"  exclaimed  Popinot,  his 
eyes  lighting  up. 

"How?"  asked  Birotteau.  "That  is  only  the 
ardor  of  youth.  Then  listen  to  me  until  I  have  done." 

Anselme  assumed  the  attitude  of  a  soldier  present- 
ing arms  to  a  Marshal  of  France. 

"  Popinot,  I  have  invented  an  oil  to  make  the 
hair  grow,  to  restore  power  to  the  scalp,  to  preserve 
the  color  of  the  hair  of  both  men  and  women.  This 
essence  will  be  no  less  successful  than  my  Paste 
and  Water;  but  I  do  not  want  to  work  out  this  secret 
by  myself,  I  am  thinking  of  retiring  from  business. 
It  is  you,  my  boy,  who  will  put  on  the  market 
my  Comagenoiis  Oil — from  the  word  coma,  a  Latin 


lOO  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

word  that  means  hair,  as  I  have  been  told  by  Monsieur 
Alibert,  physician  to  the  king;  this  word  is  to  be 
found  in  the  tragedy  of  Berenice,  into  which  Racine 
introduces  a  king  of  Comagene,  the  lover  of  that 
pretty  queen  so  famous  for  her  hair,  which  lover, 
no  doubt  from  flattery,  gave  this  name  to  his  king- 
dom. What  a  mind  these  great  geniuses  have!  they 
go  into  the  most  minute  details." — 

Little  Popinot  kept  his  serious  look  while  listening 
to  this  ridiculous  parenthesis,  evidently  spoken  for 
him,  who  was  fairly  well  educated. 

"Anselme!  I  have  looked  to  you  to  found  a 
high-class  drug  house  in  the  Rue  des  Lombards," 
said  Birotteau.  "  I  will  be  your  silent  partner,  and 
I  will  guarantee  you  the  money  to  start  with.  After 
the  comagenous  oil,  we  will  try  vanilla  essence  and 
mint  spirit.  Finally,  we  will  take  up  the  drug  busi- 
ness to  revolutionize  it,  selling  its  concentrated  pro- 
ducts instead  of  in  the  natural  state.  Ambitious 
young  man,  are  you  satisfied?" 

Anselme  could  not  reply,  so  overcome  was  he, 
but  his  eyes,  filled  with  tears,  answered  for  him. 
This  offer  seemed  to  him  to  have  been  dictated  by 
a  paternal  indulgence  that  said  to  him:  "Deserve 
Cesarine  by  becoming  rich  and  well  thought  of." 

"Sir,"  he  finally  replied,  taking  Birotteau's  emo- 
tion for  astonishment,  "  I  also  will  succeed!" 

"Just  as  I  did,"  exclaimed  the  perfumer,  "I  did 
not  say  anything  else.  If  you  have  not  my  daughter, 
you  will  always  have  a  fortune.  Well,  boy,  what 
ails  you  now?" 


IN  HIS  GLORY  lOl 

"  Let  me  hope  that  in  acquiring  the  one  1  will 
obtain  the  other." 

"  I  cannot  keep  you  from  hoping,  my  friend," 
said  Birotteau,  touched  by  Anselme's  tone. 

"Well,  sir,  may  I  begin  to-day  to  take  steps 
toward  finding  a  shop  so  that  I  may  start  in  as  soon 
as  possible?" 

"Yes,  my  boy.  To-morrow  we  will  go  and  shut 
ourselves  up  together  in  the  factory.  Before  going 
into  the  neighborhood  of  the  Rue  des  Lombards  you 
will  call  at  Livingston's  and  see  whether  my  hy- 
draulic press  will  be  ready  for  use  to-morrow.  This 
evening  we  will  go  at  dinner-time  to  the  illustrious 
and  good  Monsieur  Vauquelin's  to  consult  with  him. 
This  chemist  has  been  engaged  quite  recently  on  the 
composition  of  the  hair,  he  has  been  investigating  as 
to  what  its  coloring  substance  is,  whence  it  comes, 
what  is  the  texture  of  the  hair.  There  is  everything 
in  that,  Popinot.  You  will  know  my  secret,  and 
then  there  will  be  question  only  of  using  it  intel- 
ligently. Before  going  to  Livingston's  stop  in  at 
Fieri  Benard's.  My  boy.  Monsieur  Vauquelin's 
disinterestedness  is  one  of  the  great  griefs  of  my  life: 
it  is  impossible  to  get  him  to  accept  anything. 
Fortunately,  I  have  learned  through  Chiffreville  that 
he  wanted  a  Dresden  yirgin,  engraved  by  a  certain 
Muller,  and,  after  two  years'  correspondence  in 
Germany,  Benard  has  discovered  it  on  China-paper, 
a  proof  before  the  letter:  it  costs,  my  boy,  fifteen 
hundred  francs.  To-day  our  benefactor  will  see 
it  in  his   ante-chamber  while   showing  us  out,  for 


102  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

it  will  be  framed,  you  will  make  sure  of  that.  My 
wife  and  I  will  thus  be  recalled  to  his  memory,  for, 
as  regards  gratitude,  we  have  been  praying  to  God 
for  him  every  day  for  sixteen  years.  I  will  never 
forget  him,  not  1  ;  but,  Popinot,  buried  as  they  are  in 
science,  scholars  forget  everything,  wife,  friends, 
those  under  obligation  to  them.  As  for  us,  our 
limited  intelligence  allows  us  at  least  to  have  a  warm 
heart.  That  is  a  consolation  for  not  being  a  great 
man.  These  gentlemen  of  the  Institute  are  all 
brains,  as  you  will  see;  you  never  see  them  at 
church.  Monsieur  Vauquelin  is  always  in  his  office 
or  in  his  laboratory;  I  like  to  believe  that  he  thinks 
of  God  while  analyzing  His  works.  Our  under- 
standing is,  then:  1  will  put  up  the  money,  I  will  let 
you  into  my  secret,  we  will  go  halves,  without  there 
being  any  need  of  papers.  May  we  succeed!  we  will 
tune  our  pipes.  Hurry  up,  young  man;  as  for  me,  I 
am  going  about  my  business.  Listen,  then,  Popinot, 
three  weeks  from  now  I  will  give  a  great  ball;  get  a 
dress  suit,  come  to  it  like  a  man  in  trade  already 
well-established — ." 

This  last  touch  of  kindness  so  moved  Popinot  that 
he  took  hold  of  Cesar's  big  hand  and  kissed  it.  The 
good  man  had  flattered  the  lover  by  this  confidence, 
and  folk  so  smitten  are  capable  of  anything. 

"Poor  youth,"  said  Birotteau  on  seeing  him  run 
across  the  Tuileries,  "if  Cesarine  only  loved  him! 
but  he  is  lame,  his  hair  is  the  color  of  red  brick,  and 
young  ladies  are  so  peculiar!  I  hardly  think  that 
Cesarine — And  then  her  mother  wants  to  see  her  a 


IN  HIS  GLORY  103 

notary's  wife.  Alexandre  Crottat  will  make  her 
rich:  riches  makes  everything  bearable,  while  there 
is  no  happiness  that  does  not  give  way  before 
poverty,  in  fine,  1  have  resolved  to  let  my  daughter 
be  her  own  mistress  until  she  does  something 
foolish." 


* 


Birotteau's  next-door  neighbor  was  a  small  dealer 
in  umbrellas,  parasols  and  canes,  named  Cayron, 
from  Languedoc,  who  was  getting  along  very  poorly 
and  whom  Birotteau  had  already  obliged  on  several 
occasions.  Cayron  did  not  ask  more  than  to  be 
confined  to  his  shop  and  to  give  up  to  the  rich  per- 
fumer the  two  rooms  on  the  second  floor,  and  so 
reducing  his  rent. 

"Well,  neighbor,"  said  Birotteau  to  him  in  a 
familiar  way,  as  he  entered  the  umbrella  dealer's 
place,  "  my  wife  consents  to  the  enlargement  of  our 
quarters !  If  you  wish  we  will  go  to  Monsieur 
Molineux's  at  eleven  o'clock." 

"My  dear  Monsieur  Birotteau,"  replied  the  um- 
brella dealer,  "  I  have  never  asked  you  for  anything 
on  account  of  this  concession,  but  you  know  that  a 
good  business  man  ought  to  make  money  out  of 
everything." 

"The  deuce  !  the  deuce!  "  replied  the  perfumer, 
"  I  haven't  money  by  the  thousand  or  even  by  the 
hundred.  I  don't  know  whether  my  architect, 
whom  I  am  expecting,  will  find  the  thing  practicable, 
'  Before  coming  to  a  conclusion,'  he  said  to  me,  '  let 
us  find  out  whether  your  floors  are  on  the  same 
level.  Then  Monsieur  Molineux  must  consent  to  let 
us  make  an  opening  in  the  wall,  and  is  the  wall  a 
party  one?'      In   fine,   I    must   turn   the   stairway 

(105) 


I06  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

around  in  my  house  so  as  to  change  the  landing  in 
order  to  get  the  floors  on  the  same  level.  That 
entails  considerable  expense,  and  I  do  not  want  to 
ruin  myself." 

"Oh  !  sir,"  said  the  Southerner,  "  when  you  will 
be  ruined  the  sun  shall  have  come  to  sleep  with  the 
earth,  and  they  shall  have  offspring." 

Birotteau  stroked  his  chin  as  he  raised  himself  on 
tip-toe  and  then  fell  back  on  his  heels. 

"Moreover,"  resumed  Cayron,  "I  ask  you  for 
nothing  else  but  to  take  these  notes  from  me — ." 

And  he  handed  him  a  little  bundle  to  the  value  of 
five  thousand  francs  made  up  of  sixteen  notes. 

"Ah!  said  the  perfumer  while  he  fingered  the 
notes,  ''little  driblets,  two  months,  three  months — ." 

"  Take  them  from  me  at  six  per  cent  only,"  said 
the  dealer  with  an  air  of  humility. 

"Am  I  in  the  usury  business?"  remarked  the  per- 
fumer in  a  tone  of  reproach. 

"  Good  Heavens,  sir,  I  have  been  to  see  your  old 
clerk,  Du  Tillet;  he  did  not  want  them  at  any  price, 
no  doubt  to  find  out  what  I  would  consent  to  lose," 

"  I  do  not  recognize  these  signatures,"  said  the 
perfumer. 

"  But  we  have  such  funny  names  in  the  cane  and 
umbrella  business,  they  are  hawkers!" 

"  Very  well,  I  do  not  say  that  I  will  take  all,  but  I 
will  always  accommodate  you  for  those  of  the  shorter 
terms." 

"  For  the  thousand  francs  at  four  months,  do  not 
let  me  have  to  run  after  the  blood-suckers  that  rob 


IN  HIS  GLORY  107 

US  of  the  best  part  of  our  profits,  take  them  all  from 
me,  sir,  I  have  so  little  recourse  to  discount,  1  have 
no  credit,  that  is  what  is  killing  us  poor  little 
retailers." 

"  Come,  then,  I  accept  your  driblets,  Celestine 
will  pay  you.  Be  ready  at  eleven  o'clock.  Here 
comes  my  architect.  Monsieur  Grindot,"  added  the 
perfumer,  noticing  the  approach  of  the  young  man 
with  whom  he  had  been  the  evening  before  to  Mon- 
sieur de  la  Billardiere's.  "Contrary  to  the  habit  of 
men  of  talent,  you  are  punctual,  sir,"  Cesar  said  to 
him,  putting  on  his  best  commercial  airs.  "If  punc- 
tuality, according  to  an  expression  of  the  king, 
and  he  is  a  man  of  brains  as  well  as  a  great  politician, 
is  the  politeness  of  kings,  it  is  also  the  fortune  of 
merchants.  Time,  time  is  gold,  especially  to  you 
artists.  Architecture  is  the  uniting  of  all  the  arts,  if 
1  may  allow  myself  to  say  so.  Let  us  not  go  in 
through  the  shop,"  he  added,  pointing  to  the  imita- 
tion gate  to  his  house. 

Four  years  previously  Monsieur  Grindot  had  won 
the  Grand  prix  for  architecture,  and  he  was  now 
returning  from  Rome  after  a  sojourn  there  of  three 
years  at  the  expense  of  the  State.  In  Italy  the 
young  artist  thought  of  art;  at  Paris  he  thought  of  a 
fortune.  The  Government  can  alone  furnish  the 
millions  that  an  architect  needs  to  build  up  his  glory. 
On  returning  from  Rome  it  is  so  natural  to  believe 
one's  self  a  Fontaine  or  a  Percier  that  every  ambitious 
architect  inclines  towards  the  party  in  power:  the 
Liberal   student,    having    become  a  Royalist,  was 


I08  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

trying  then  to  win  the  protection  of  influential  folk. 
When  a  Grand  prix  man  is  behaving  thus,  his  com- 
rades call  him  an  intriguer.  The  young  architect 
had  two  courses  before  him:  either  to  serve  the  per- 
fumer or  to  bleed  him.  But  Birotteau,  the  mayor's 
deputy,  Birotteau,  the  future  owner  of  half  the  land 
around  the  Madeleine,  where  he  would  sooner  or 
later  build  a  handsome  section,  was  a  man  to  be 
courted,  and  accordingly  Grindot  sacrificed  present 
gain  for  benefits  to  come.  He  listened  patiently  to 
the  plans,  the  repetitions,  the  ideas  of  one  of  those 
middle-class  men,  a  constant  target  for  the  artist's 
thrusts  and  pleasantries,  the  eternal  object  of  his 
contempt,  and  followed  the  perfumer  with  nods  of  his 
head  in  approval  of  his  ideas.  When  the  perfumer 
had  fully  explained  everything,  the  architect  tried  to 
sum  up  his  plan  for  him. 

"You  have  three  windows  looking  out  on  the 
street,  and  in  addition  the  dark  window  on  the  stair- 
way alongside  the  landing.  You  add  to  these  four 
windows  the  two  that  are  on  the  same  level  in  the 
adjoining  house  and  you  want  the  stairway  turned 
round  so  as  to  have  all  the  rooms  on  the  same  level 
on  the  street  side." 

"You  have  understood  me  perfectly,"  said  the 
astonished  perfumer. 

"  To  carry  out  your  plan  we  must  light  the  new 
stairway  from  above,  and  have  a  porter's  lodge 
under  the  supports." 

"Supports—?" 

"  Yes,  that  is  the  part  on  which  rests — ." 


IN  HIS  GLORY  IO9 

"  I  understand,  sir." 

*'  As  regards  your  apartments,  leave  me  free  to 
arrange  and  decorate  them.  1  mean  to  make  them 
worthy — ," 

"  Worthy!  that  is  the  word,  sir." 

"  What  time  do  you  give  me  to  make  this  improve- 
ment?" 

"  Twenty  days." 

"  How  much  do  you  want  to  spend  as  regards  the 
workmen?"  asked  Grindot. 

"  But  how  much  may  these  repairs  amount  to?" 

"  An  architect  figures  on  a  new  building  almost  to 
the  very  centime,"  the  young  man  replied;  "  but  as 
I  do  not  know  what  it  is  to  deal  with  a  man  of  the 
middle-class, — I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  it  was  a  slip, — 
I  ought  to  tell  you  beforehand  that  it  is  impossible  to 
figure  on  repairs  and  alterations.  It  would  take  me 
at  least  a  week  to  make  an  approximate  estimate. 
Give  me  your  confidence:  you  will  have  a  charming 
stairway  lighted  from  above,  adorned  with  a  pretty 
vestibule  leading  to  the  street,  and  under  the 
supports — ." 

"  Always  those  supports!" 

"  Do  not  worry  about  that,  I  will  make  room 
there  for  a  small  porter's  lodge.  Your  apartments 
will  be  studied  and  most  carefully  restored.  Yes, 
sir,  I  am  looking  to  art,  and  not  fortune!  Before  all, 
am  I  not  to  have  myself  spoken  about  in  order  to 
get  there?  In  my  opinion,  the  best  way  is  not  to 
get  at  loggerheads  with  the  furnishers,  to  get  fine 
effects  cheap." 


no  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

"  With  such  ideas,  young  man,"  said  Birotteau  in 
a  patronizing  tone,  "you  will  succeed," 

"Also,"  continued  Grindot,  "treat  directly  with 
your  masons,  painters,  locksmiths,  carpenters, 
joiners.  For  my  part,  I  undertake  to  adjust  their 
bills.  Allow  me  only  two  thousand  francs  as  an 
honorarium,  it  will  be  money  well  spent.  Leave  me 
master  of  the  place  to-morrow  at  noon,  and  tell  me 
who  your  workmen  are." 

"What  may  the  cost  be,  as  near  as  you  can 
guess?"  asked  Birotteau, 

"From  ten  to  twelve  thousand  francs,"  said 
Grindot,  "But  I  am  not  counting  on  the  furniture, 
for  you  will  no  doubt  renew  it.  You  will  give  me 
your  upholsterer's  address,  as  I  must  have  an 
understanding  with  him  in  order  to  assort  the  colors, 
so  as  to  have  the  job  finished  in  good  taste," 

"Monsieur  Braschon,  Rue  Saint-Antoine,  has  my 
orders,"  said  the  perfumer,  assuming  the  air  of  a 
duke. 

The  architect  wrote  the  address  on  one  of  those 
little  souvenir  cards  that  always  come  from  a  pretty 
woman, 

"Come,"  said  Birotteau,  "I  trust  to  you,  sir. 
Only  wait  until  I  have  arranged  the  surrender  of  the 
lease  of  the  two  adjoining  rooms  and  obtained  per- 
mission to  break  through  the  wall," 

"  Send  me  word  by  note  this  evening,"  said  the 
architect,  "  I  will  have  to  spend  the  night  drawing 
up  my  plans,  and  we  would  much  rather  work  for 
the  middle  class  than  for  the  King  of  Prussia,  that 


IN  HIS  GLORY  III 

is,  for  ourselves.  I  always  go  and  take  the  measure- 
ments, heights,  dimensions  of  the  tableaux,  size  of 
the  windows — ." 

"We  will  get  there  on  the  day  appointed," 
remarked  Birotteau;  "if  not,  nothing." 

"  We  must,  indeed,"  replied  the  architect.  "The 
workmen  will  spend  all  night  at  it,  processes  for 
drying  the  painting  will  be  used;  but  don't  let  the 
contractors  get  into  you,  always  ask  them  the  price 
in  advance,  and  put  your  agreements  on  paper!" 

"  Paris  is  the  only  place  in  the  world  where  one 
can  make  such  magic  strokes,"  said  Birotteau,  as  he 
indulged  in  an  Asiatic  gesture  worthy  of  The  Arabian 
Nights.  "  You  will  do  me  the  honor  of  coming  to 
my  ball,  sir.  All  men  of  talent  do  not  look  with 
crushing  disdain  on  trade,  and  you  will  no  doubt  see 
there  a  scholar  of  the  first  order,  Monsieur  Vauquelin, 
of  the  Institute!  Then  Monsieur  de  la  Billardiere, 
the  Comte  de  Fontaine,  Judge  Lebas,  president  of 
the  tribunal  of  commerce;  magistrates:  the  Comte  de 
Granville,  of  the  royal  court;  and  Judge  Popinot,  of 
the  committing  court;  Judge  Camusot,  of  the  tri- 
bunal of  commerce,  and  Monsieur  Cardot,  his  father- 
in-law— ;  finally,  perhaps  the  Due  de  Lenoncourt, 
the  king's  first  gentleman  chamberlain.  I  am  bring- 
ing together  a  few  friends  as  much — to  celebrate 
the  deliverance  of  the  territory — as  to  give  a  feast 
in  honor  of  my — promotion  to  the  Order  of  the 
Legion  of  Honor — " 

Grindot  made  a  strange  gesture. 

"  Perhaps— I  have  made  myself  worthy  of  this — 


112  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

distinguished — and — royal — favor  by  sitting  in  the 
consular  court  and  by  fighting  for  the  Bourbons  on 
the  steps  of  Saint-Roch  on  the  thirteenth  Vende- 
miaire,  where  I  was  wounded  by  Napoleon.  These 
titles—" 

Constance,  in  her  morning  costume,  came  out  of 
Cesarine's  bed-room,  where  she  had  dressed;  her 
first  glance  at  once  cut  short  her  husband's  rhapsody, 
and  he  tried  to  frame  an  ordinary  phrase  that  would 
modestly  tell  his  neighbor  of  his  greatness. 

"  Here,  dear,  this  is  Monsieur  de  Grindot,  a  dis- 
tinguished young  man  who  is  possessed  of  great 
talent.  The  gentleman  is  the  architect  recom- 
mended to  us  by  Monsieur  de  la  Billardiere,  to  direct 
our  little  work  here." 

The  perfumer  tried  to  give  a  hint  to  the  architect 
without  his  wife  observing  him,  by  putting  his  finger 
to  his  lips  at  the  word  little,  and  the  artist  took  it. 

"  Constance,  the  gentleman  is  going  to  take  the 
measurements,  the  altitudes.  Let  him  do  it,  pet," 
said  Birotteau,  as  he  shot  out  into  the  street. 

"Will  it  be  very  expensive?"  Constance  asked 
of  the  architect. 

"No,  madame,  six  thousand  francs,  as  close  as 
can  be  guessed — " 

"  As  close  as  can  be  guessed!"  exclaimed  Madame 
Birotteau.  "  I  entreat  you,  sir,  do  not  begin  with- 
out an  estimate  and  contracts  signed.  I  know  the 
ways  of  those  gentlemen,  the  contractors:  six 
thousand  means  twenty  thousand.  We  are  not  in  a 
position  to  be  foolish.     I  beg  of  you,  sir,  though  my 


MADAME  AND    CESARINE  BIROTTEAU 


''Ah  !  viy  daugJitcr !  your  father  is  ruining  him- 
self! He  has  engaged  an  architect  ivitJi  imistacJies 
and  an  imperial,  and  who  speaks  of  building  monu- 
ments !  He  is  going  to  throw  tJie  house  out  of  the 
windows  and  build  us  a  Louvre.  Cesar  is  never 
behind  in  folly ;  he  spoke  to  me  of  his  plan  last 
night,  and  he  is  carrying  it  02it  this  morning. 

"Bah  !  niaiiima,  let  papa  do  it,  God  has  ahvays 
protected  Jam','  said  Cesarine. 


'i^/iy:<f.A/^tU-  /<l>«',^    ','/.    '' 


IN  HIS  GLORY  113 

husband  is  master  in  his  own  house,  give  him  time 
to  reflect." 

"  Madame,  the  deputy  has  instructed  me  to  have 
the  work  finished  in  twenty  days,  and,  if  we  delay, 
you  would  expose  yourself  to  contracting  expense 
without  getting  the  result." 

"  There  is  expense  and  expense,"  said  the  pretty 
wife  of  the  perfumer. 

"Well!  madame,  do  you  think  it  will  be  any 
glory  to  an  architect  who  wants  to  build  monuments 
to  adorn  a  suite  of  apartments?  I  condescend  to 
attend  to  this  job  only  to  oblige  Monsieur  de  la 
Billardiere,  and,  if  I  frighten  you — " 

He  made  a  movement  as  if  to  retire. 

"All  right,  all  right,  sir,"  said  Constance  as  she 
went  back  into  her  room,  where  she  laid  her  head 
on  Cesarine's  shoulder.  "Ah!  my  daughter!  your 
father  is  ruining  himself!  He  has  engaged  an  archi- 
tect with  mustaches  and  an  imperial,  and  who  speaks 
of  building  monuments!  He  is  going  to  throw  the 
house  out  of  the  windows  and  build  us  a  Louvre. 
Cesar  is  never  behind  in  folly;  he  spoke  to  me  of 
his  plan  last  night,  and  he  is  carrying  it  out  this 
morning," 

"Bah!  mamma,  let  papa  do  it,  God  has  always 
protected  him,"  said  Cesarine,  embracing  her  mother 
and  sitting  at  the  piano  to  show  the  architect  that 
the  perfumer's  daughter  was  not  a  stranger  to  the 
fine  arts. 

When  the  architect  entered  the  bed-room  he  was 
surprised  at  Cesarine's  beauty,  and  stood  as  if 
8 


114  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

almost  forbidden  to  enter.  Having  left  her  little 
room  in  morning  dishabille,  Cesarine,  fresh  and 
rosy  as  a  young  girl  is  rosy  and  fresh  at  eighteen, 
fair  and  slender,  with  blue  eyes,  presented  to  the 
artist's  gaze  that  elasticity,  so  rare  in  Paris,  which 
makes  the  most  delicate  flesh  rebound,  and  the  shade 
of  a  color  adored  by  painters,  the  blue  of  the  veins 
whose  network  palpitates  in  the  clearness  of  the  com- 
plexion. Though  living  in  the  lymphatic  atmosphere 
of  a  Parisian  shop,  where  the  atmosphere  is  not 
easily  renewed,  where  the  sun  seldom  penetrates, 
her  habits  gave  her  the  advantages  of  the  open-air 
life  of  a  Roman  Transteverina.  Abundant  hair — 
growing  like  her  father's  and  arranged  so  as  to  dis- 
play a  well-set  neck — flowed  in  tresses  as  well  cared 
for  as  those  of  all  shop-girls  who  desire  in  matters 
of  toilet  to  be  remarked  for  the  most  English  of  detail. 
This  pretty  girl's  beauty  was  neither  the  beauty  of 
an  English  lady,  nor  that  of  a  French  duchess,  but 
the  rotund  and  rosy  beauty  of  Rubens'  Flemings. 
Cesarine  had  her  father's  turned-up  nose,  but  made 
significant  of  sprightliness  by  the  fineness  of  the 
modeling,  like  that  of  the  essentially  French  noses 
in  which  Largilliere  was  successful.  Her  skin, 
like  a  stuff  full  and  strong,  told  of  a  virgin's  vitality. 
She  had  her  mother's  fine  brow,  but  lit  up  by  the 
serenity  of  a  girl  free  from  care.  Her  blue  eyes, 
bathed  in  a  rich  fluid,  expressed  the  tender  grace 
of  a  happy  blonde.  If  good  luck  had  deprived  her 
head  of  that  poesy  which  painters  wish  to  give 
absolutely  to  their  compositions  in  making  them  a 


I 


IN  HIS  GLORY  I15 

little  too  pensive,  the  vague  physical  melancholy 
that  marks  young  girls  who  have  never  left  the 
maternal  wing  imprinted  on  her  then  a  sort  of  ideal. 
Despite  the  fineness  of  her  lineaments,  she  was 
strongly  built:  her  feet  betrayed  her  father's  peasant 
origin,  for  her  weak  points  consisted  in  a  defect  of 
race  and  perhaps  also  in  her  ruddy  hands,  the  mark 
of  a  purely  middle-class  life.  She  must  sooner  or 
later  fall  into  a  state  of  corpulency.  After  seeing 
some  fashionable  young  women,  she  went  so  far  as 
to  adopt  a  taste  for  the  toilet,  some  heady  airs,  a 
manner  of  talking  and  moving  affected  by  the 
well-bred  woman  and  turned  all  the  young  clerks' 
heads,  to  whom  she  seemed  quite  an  elegant  girl. 
Popinot  had  sworn  never  to  have  any  one  else 
for  wife,  than  Cesarine.  This  fluid  blonde  that 
a  look  seemed  to  penetrate,  ready  to  melt  into  tears 
at  a  word  of  reproach,  could  alone  give  to  him  the 
feeling  of  masculine  superiority.  This  charming 
girl  -ifispired  love  without  leaving  time  to  examine 
whether  it  had  enough  spirit  to  render  it  durable; 
but  of  what  good  is  that  in  Paris  called  spirit,  in 
a  class  in  which  the  chief  element  of  happiness  is 
common  sense  and  virtue.?  Morally  Cesarine  was 
her  mother  somewhat  perfected  by  the  superfluities 
of  education:  she  loved  music,  drew  in  black  crayon 
the  Virgin  of  the  Chair,  read  the  works  of  Madame 
Cotton  and  Riccoboni,  Bernardin  de  Saint-Pierre, 
Fenelon,  Racine.  She  never  appeared  at  her  mother's 
side  behind  the  counter  except  for  a  few  moments 
before  sitting  down  at  table,  or  to  take  her  place  on 


Il6  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

rare  occasions.  Both  her  father  and  her  mother, 
like  all  those  upstarts  eager  to  cultivate  their 
children's  ingratitude  by  putting  them  above  them- 
selves, took  pleasure  in  adoring  Cesarine,  who, 
fortunately,  had  the  virtues  of  the  middle-class  and 
did  not  abuse  their  weakness. 

Madame  Birotteau  followed  the  architect  in  a  rest- 
less and  anxious  way,  regarding  with  dread  and 
pointing  out  to  her  daughter  the  whimsical  move- 
ments of  the  yard-stick,  the  cane  of  architects  and 
contractors,  with  which  Grindot  was  taking  his 
measurements.  She  found  in  these  wand-like 
movements  a  conjuring  air  of  very  bad  omen,  she 
wished  the  walls  were  less  high,  the  rooms  not  so 
large,  and  dared  not  question  the  young  man  on 
the  effects  of  this  sorcery. 

"  Make  your  mind  easy,  Madame,  I  will  not  carry 
off  anything,"  said  the  artist,  smiling. 

Cesarine  could  not  help  laughing. 

"  Sir,"  said  Constance  in  a  supplicating  tone,  not 
noticing  the  architect's  retort,  "go  economically, 
and,  later  on,  we  will  be  able  to  recompense 
you — " 

Before  going  to  Monsieur  Molineux's,  the  owner 
of  the  adjoining  house,  Cesar  went  to  Roguin's  to 
attach  his  private  signature  to  the  document  Alex- 
andre Crottat  was  to  have  prepared  for  him  for  that 
lease.  On  leaving,  Birotteau  saw  Du  Tillet  at  the 
window  of  Roguin's  private  office.  Though  his 
former  clerk's  intrigue  with  the  notary's  wife  made 
the    meeting  with   Du  Tillet  rather  natural  at  the 


IN  HIS  GLORY  II7 

time  of  making  out  the  papers  regarding  the  land, 
Birotteau  felt  ill  at  ease  on  account  of  it,  in  spite  of 
his  extreme  confidence.  Du  Tillet's  animated  ap- 
pearance bespoke  a  discussion. 

"  Could  he  be  in  the  business.?"  he  asked  him- 
self by  reason  of  his  commercial  prudence. 

The  suspicion  passed  like  a  flash  through  his 
mind.  He  turned  back,  saw  Madame  Roguin,  and 
then  the  banker's  presence  no  longer  seemed  to 
justify  his  suspicion. 

"  But,  suppose  Constance  were  right.'"'  he  asked 
himself.  "  Am  I  so  stupid  as  to  listen  to  women's 
ideas?  I  will,  moreover,  mention  it  to  my  uncle  this 
morning.  From  the  Cour  Batave,  where  this  Mon- 
sieur Molineux  lives,  to  the  Rue  des  Bourdonnais,  is 
only  a  step." 

A  distrustful  observer,  a  man  of  trade  who  in 
his  career  had  met  some  cheats,  would  have  been 
saved;  but  Birotteau's  antecedents,  the  incapacity 
of  his  mind,  ill  adapted  to  tracing  the  chain  of  induc- 
tions by  which  a  superior  man  arrives  at  causes,  all 
led  to  his  destruction.  He  found  the  umbrella  dealer 
in  full  dress,  and  was  going  with  him  to  the  owner's, 
when  Virginia,  his  cook,  took  hold  of  his  arm. 

"  Sir,  Madame  does  not  want  you  to  go  any 
further — " 

"Let  us  go,"  exclaimed  Birotteau,  "women's 
ideas  once  more!" 

" — without  taking  your  cup  of  coffee  that  is 
waiting  for  you." 

"  Ah!  true.    Neighbor,"  said  Birotteau  to  Cayron, 


Il8  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

"  I  have  so  many  things  in  my  head  that  I  do  not 
listen  to  my  stomach.  Do  me  the  favor  of  going  on 
ahead.  We  will  meet  at  Monsieur  Molineux's  gate, 
unless  you  go  up  to  explain  the  matter  to  him.  In 
this  way  we  will  lose  less  time." 

Monsieur  Molineux  was  a  grotesque  little  landlord, 
such  as  is  to  be  found  only  in  Paris,  as  a  certain 
lichen  grows  only  in  Iceland.  This  comparison  is  so 
much  the  more  correct  as  that  man  partook  of  a 
mixed  nature,  of  an  animo-vegetable  kingdom  that  a 
new  Mercier  might  make  out  of  the  cryptogams  that 
grow,  flourish  or  die  on,  in  or  under  the  plastered 
walls  of  various  strange  and  unhealthy  houses  to 
which  these  beings  prefer  to  resort.  At  first  sight 
this  human  plant,  umbelliferous,  with  the  tubulated 
blue  helmet  that  crowned  it,  with  a  stem  involved 
in  greenish  pantaloons,  and  bulbous  roots  wrapped 
in  fringed  pumps,  presented  a  whitish  and  dull  ap- 
pearance that  certainly  betrayed  nothing  poisonous. 
In  this  odd  product  you  would  have  recognized  the 
shareholder  above  all  else,  believing  all  the  news 
that  the  periodical  press  baptizes  with  its  ink,  and 
who  has  said  everything  in  saying:  "Read  the 
newspaper!"  The  middle-class  man  essentially 
fond  of  order,  and  ever  in  moral  revolt  against  power, 
which  he  nevertheless  always  obeys,  a  weak  crea- 
ture in  the  mass  and  ferocious  in  detail,  obdurate  as 
a  constable  when  it  is  a  question  of  his  rights,  and 
giving  fresh  chickweed  to  the  birds  or  fish-bones  to 
his  cat,  interrupting  a  receipt  for  rent  to  teach  a 
canary,  distrustful   as  a  jailer,    but   investing   his 


IN  HIS  GLORY  1 19 

money  in  a  doubtful  venture,  and  then  trying  to 
mai<e  up  his  loss  by  the  grossest  avarice.  The 
power  for  mischief  of  this  hybrid  flower  was  revealed 
in  fact  only  by  dealing  with  it;  to  be  felt,  its 
nauseating  bitterness  needed  the  decoction  of  some 
transaction  or  other  in  which  its  interests  were  found 
mingled  with  those  of  men.  Like  all  Parisians, 
Molineux  felt  a  need  for  domination,  he  craved  for 
that  more  or  less  considerable  part  of  sovereignty 
exercised  by  each  one,  and  even  by  a  porter,  over  a 
larger  or  smaller  number  of  victims,  wife,  child, 
tenant,  clerk,  horse,  dog,  or  monkey,  on  which  one 
vents  by  reflex  action  the  mortifications  received  in 
the  upper  sphere  to  which  one  aspires.  This  tire- 
some little  old  man  had  neither  wife,  nor  child,  nor 
nephew,  nor  niece;  he  was  too  rude  to  his  house- 
keeper to  make  a  martyr  of  her,  for  she  shunned  all 
contact  by  strictly  attending  to  her  duties.  His 
tyrannical  appetites  were  accordingly  cheated;  to 
satisfy  them,  he  had  patiently  studied  the  laws  on 
the  contract  of  renting  and  on  the  party  wall;  he 
had  fathomed  the  jurisprudence  bearing  on  Paris 
houses  in  the  infmitesimally  small  matters  of  the  ins 
and  outs,  services,  taxes,  charges,  cleanings.  Corpus 
Christi  hangings,  drainage  pipes,  lighting,  blocking 
the  public  highway  and  proximity  of  unhealthy  prem- 
ises. His  methods  and  his  activity,  all  the  mind 
he  had  went  to  keep  up  his  condition  of  landlord  to 
the  full  war  allowance;  he  had  made  an  amusement 
of  it,  and  his  amusement  turned  into  monomania. 
He  liked  to  protect  citizens  against  the  invasions  of 


120  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

illegality;  but  as  the  causes  of  complaint  were  few, 
his  passion  had  then  gone  to  encompassing  his 
tenants.  A  tenant  became  his  enemy,  his  inferior, 
his  subject,  his  serf.  He  thought  he  had  a  right  to 
his  respect,  and  regarded  as  a  boor  him  who  passed 
close  to  him  on  the  stairway  without  speaking  to 
him.  He  wrote  his  bills  himself,  and  sent  them  at 
noon  on  the  day  on  which  the  rent  was  due.  The 
tenant  in  arrears  received  a  summons  at  a  fixed 
hour.  Then  the  levy  costs,  the  whole  judicial 
cavalry  were  sent  out  at  once  with  that  rapidity 
which  the  manager  of  more  exalted  work  calls 
mechanism.  Molineux  granted  neither  terms  nor 
delay,  his  heart  was  obdurate  against  the  tenant. 

"  I  will  lend  you  money  if  you  need  it,"  he  said 
to  a  man  who  could  pay,  "  but  pay  me  my  rent,  any 
delay  will  entail  a  loss  of  interest  for  which  the  law 
does  not  indemnify  us." 

After  a  long  examination  of  the  skipping  fancies 
of  tenants  who  did  not  act  in  the  normal  way,  who 
successively  overthrew  the  institutions  of  their  pre- 
decessors, no  more  nor  less  than  dynasties,  he 
drew  up  a  charter  for  himself,  and  lived  up  to  it  to 
the  letter.  Thus,  the  good  man  made  no  repairs; 
no  chimney  smoked,  his  stairs  were  clean,  his  ceil- 
ings white,  his  cornices  above  reproach,  the  floors 
solid  on  their  joists,  the  painting  satisfactory;  the 
locks  were  never  over  three  years  old,  no  glass  was 
wanting,  there  were  no  cracks,  he  saw  breaks  in  the 
floors  only  when  some  one  had  left  the  place,  and 
on  receiving  applicants  he  had  the  assistance  of  a 


IN  HIS  GLORY  121 

locksmith  and  a  painter  and  glazier,  very  accommo- 
dating folk,  he  said.  The  new  tenant  was,  more- 
over, free  to  make  improvements;  but  if  an  imprudent 
one  renovated  his  apartments,  little  Molineux  spent 
night  and  day  thinking  of  how  to  dislodge  him  in 
order  that  he  might  get  a  new  tenant  for  the  freshly- 
decorated  rooms;  he  lay  in  ambush  for  him,  awaited 
him,  and  heaped  up  the  series  of  his  misdeeds.  All 
the  fine  points  of  Parisian  legislation  on  leases  he 
was  acquainted  with.  Litigious  and  given  to  writing 
much,  he  made  drafts  of  mild  and  polite  letters  to  his 
tenants;  but  beneath  his  style,  as  behind  his  dull 
and  forbidding  countenance,  he  concealed  a  Shylock 
soul.  He  always  insisted  on  six  months  in  advance, 
credited  on  the  last  term  of  the  lease,  and  the 
cortege  of  thorny  conditions  that  he  had  invented. 
He  investigated  as  to  whether  the  place  was  supplied 
with  enough  furniture  to  answer  for  the  rent.  When 
he  got  a  new  tenant  he  submitted  his  name  to  the 
police  for  their  information,  for  he  would  not  tol- 
erate certain  doings,  the  slightest  hammer  stroke 
annoyed  him  terribly.  Then,  when  he  had  to  make 
out  a  lease,  he  kept  the  deed  and  spelled  it  for  a 
week,  fearing  what  he  called  the  notary's  ei  ccetera. 
Outside  of  his  ideas  as  landlord,  Jean-Baptiste 
Molineux  seemed  kind  and  obliging;  he  played  boston 
without  complaining  of  his  partner's  mistakes;  he 
laughed  at  what  makes  middle-class  people  laugh, 
spoke  of  what  they  talk  about,  of  the  arbitrary  acts 
of  the  bakers  who  were  so  wicked  as  to  sell  by  false 
weight,  of    the   connivance  of    the   police,  of   the 


122  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

heroic  seventeen  Deputies  of  the  Left.  He  read 
the  Cure  Meslier's  Common  Sense,  and  went  to  Mass, 
for  want  of  being  able  to  choose  between  deism  and 
Christianity;  but  he  made  no  return  for  the  blessed 
bread  and  then  pleaded  escape  from  the  encroaching 
pretensions  of  the  clergy.  On  this  subject  the 
indefatigable  petitioner  wrote  letters  to  the  news- 
papers, which  the  newspapers  did  not  insert  and  did 
not  deign  to  answer.  In  fine,  he  resembled  an 
estimable  middle-class  man  who  solemnly  kindles 
his  yule  log,  goes  shooting  on  Twelfth  Day,  invents 
April-fool  tricks,  parades  all  the  boulevards  when 
the  weather  is  fine,  goes  to  see  the  skaters,  and  at 
two  o'clock  betakes  himself  to  the  terrace  of  the 
Place  Louis  XV.  on  fire-work  days,  with  his  pocket 
full  of  bread,  so  as  to  be  m  the  front  row. 

The  Cour  Batave,  where  this  little  old  man  lived, 
is  the  product  of  one  of  those  odd  speculations  that 
can  no  longer  be  explained  after  they  have  been 
carried  out.  This  claustral  building,  with  interior 
arcades  and  galleries,  constructed  of  cut  stone, 
adorned  with  a  fountain  at  the  lower  end,  a  polluted 
fountain  that  opens  its  lion's  mouth  less  to  give  water 
than  to  ask  it  of  every  passer-by,  was  no  doubt 
invented  to  endow  the  Quartier  Saint-Denis  with  a 
sort  of  Palais-Royal.  This  monument,  unhealthy, 
enclosed  on  its  four  sides  by  lofty  houses,  has  no 
life  or  movement,  but  in  day  time  it  is  the  centre  of 
the  dark  passages  that  meet  there  and  join  the 
Market  Quarter  to  that  of  Saint-Martin  by  means  of 
the  famous  Rue  Quincampoix,  damp  paths,  where 


IN  HIS  GLORY  123 

hampered  folk  catch  rheumatism;  but,  at  night,  no 
place  in  Paris  is  more  deserted,  you  might  call  it  the 
catacombs  of  trade.  There  are  several  industrial 
sewers  there,  very  few  Batavians  and  many  grocers. 
Naturally  the  tenements  of  this  dealers'  palace  have 
no  other  outlook  than  that  of  the  common  court 
on  which  all  the  windows  open,  so  that  the  rents 
are  at  a  very  low  figure.  Monsieur  Molineux  dwelt 
in  one  of  the  angles,  on  the  seventh  floor,  on  account 
of  his  health:  the  air  was  pure  only  at  a  height  of 
seventy  feet  above  the  ground.  There  this  good 
landlord  enjoyed  the  charming  view  of  the  Mont- 
martre  mills  while  walking  amid  young  oaks,  where 
he  cultivated  flowers,  notwithstanding  the  police 
regulations  relative  to  hanging  gardens  in  the  modern 
Babylon.  His  apartments  consisted  of  four  rooms, 
without  comprising  his  valuable  Anglaises  situated 
a  story  higher:  he  had  the  key  to  them,  they  be- 
longed to  him,  he  had  founded  them,  he  was  in  the 
fashion  in  this  respect.  On  entering,  an  unseemly 
nudity  at  once  revealed  this  man's  avarice:  in  the 
ante-chamber,  six  straw-seated  chairs,  a  faience 
chafing-dish,  and,  on  the  walls,  hung  with  bottle- 
green  paper,  four  engravings  bought  at  sales;  in  the 
dining-room,  two  buffets,  two  cages  full  of  birds,  a 
table  covered  with  an  oil-cloth,  a  barometer,  a 
glass  door  looking  out  on  his  hanging  gardens  and 
mahogany  chairs  stuffed  with  hair;  the  parlor  had 
small  shades  of  old  green  silk  stuff,  a  piece  of  fur- 
niture in  green  Utrecht  velvet  and  white-painted 
wood.     As  regards  this  old  bachelor's  bed-room,  it 


124  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

had  furnishings  of  the  time  of  Louis  XV.,  disfigured 
by  too  long  use  and  on  which  a  woman  clad  in 
white  would  be  afraid  to  soil  herself.  His  mantel- 
piece was  adorned  with  a  clock  having  two  columns 
between  which  was  a  dial  that  served  as  a  pedestal 
for  a  Pallas  brandishing  her  spear:  a  myth.  The 
hearth  was  loaded  with  dishes  full  of  remains 
intended  for  the  cats,  and  where  one  would  be  afraid 
to  tread.  Above  a  rose-wood  commode,  a  pastel 
portrait — Molineux  in  his  youth — .  Then  books, 
tables  on  which  were  seen  mean  green  cartons;  on 
a  bracket,  his  late  finches  stuffed;  finally,  a  bed  so 
cold  that  it  might  have  told  of  a  Carmelite. 

Cesar  Birotteau  was  delighted  with  the  exquisite 
politeness  of  Molineux,  whom  he  found  in  a  gray 
swan-skin  dressing-gown,  superintending  his  milk 
placed  on  a  sheet-iron  chafing-dish  in  the  chimney 
corner  and  his  eight-ounce  allowance  of  water  that 
was  boiling  in  a  small  brown  earthenware  kettle 
and  which  he  was  pouring  in  small  doses  into  his 
coffee-pot.  So  as  not  to  disturb  his  landlord,  the 
umbrella-dealer  had  gone  to  open  the  door  for  Birot- 
teau. Molineux  held  in  great  veneration  the  mayors 
and  deputies  of  the  city  of  Paris,  whom  he  called 
his  municipal  officers.  On  the  magistrate  making 
his  appearance  he  arose  and  remained  standing, 
with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  until  the  great  Birotteau 
was  seated. 

"No,  sir — Yes,  sir — Ah!  sir,  if  I  had  known  that 
I  was  to  have  had  the  honor  of  having  among  my 
modest  household  goods  a  member  of  the  municipal 


IN  HIS  GLORY  125 

body  of  Paris,  then  you  may  believe  that  I  would 
have  regarded  it  as  a  duty  to  go  to  your  house, 
though  your  landlord  or — on  the  point — of — be- 
coming such." 

Birotteau  made  a  signal  of  entreaty  for  him  to  put 
on  his  hat. 

"  I  will  not  do  so,  I  will  not  cover  my  head  until 
you  are  seated  and  covered  too,  if  you  have  a  cold; 
my  room  is  somewhat  chilly,  the  moderate  amount 
of  my  income  does  not  allow  me — at  your  pleasure. 
Monsieur  Deputy." 

Birotteau  had  sneezed  while  looking  for  his  papers. 
He  presented  them,  and  in  doing  so  remarked,  in 
order  to  obviate  any  delay,  that  Monsieur  Roguin, 
the  notary,  had  drawn  them  up  at  his  own  expense. 

"  1  do  not  dispute  Monsieur  Roguin's  intelligence, 
he  has  an  old  name  that  is  well  known  in  the  ofifice 
of  notary  in  Paris;  but  I  have  my  little  habits,  I 
attend  to  my  business  myself,  a  rather  excusable 
mania,  and  my  notary  is — " 

"  But  our  affair  is  so  simple,"  said  the  perfumer, 
accustomed  to  the  ready  decisions  of  people  in  trade. 

"So  simple!"  exclaimed  Molineux.  "Nothing  is 
simple  in  the  matter  of  renting.  Ah!  you  are  not  a 
landlord,  sir,  and  you  are  only  so  much  the  happier 
for  it.  If  you  only  knew  how  ungrateful  tenants 
are,  and  what  precautions  we  are  obliged  to  take! 
Well,  sir,  I  have  a  tenant — " 

Molineux  spent  a  quarter  of  an  hour  telling  how 
Monsieur  Gendrin,  a  designer,  had  eluded  the 
vigilance  of   his  porter,  in  the   Rue   Saint-Honore. 


126  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

Monsieur  Gendrin  was  guilty  of  infamy  worthy  of  a 
Marat,  making  obscene  sketches  that  the  police 
tolerated,  just  see  the  connivance  of  the  police! 
This  Gendrin,  a  most  immoral  artist,  was  coming  in 
with  women  of  bad  repute  and  blocking  the  stairway! 
a  pleasantry  quite  worthy  of  a  man  who  was  drawing 
caricatures  hostile  to  the  Government.  And  why 
these  misdeeds? — Because  he  was  asked  for  his  rent 
on  the  fifteenth!  Gendrin  and  Molineux  went  to  law, 
for,  though  he  did  not  pay,  the  artist  had  the  cheek 
to  remain  in  his  empty  apartments.  Molineux  re- 
ceived anonymous  letters  in  which  Gendrin  no 
doubt  threatened  him  with  assassination,  of  an 
evening,  in  the  alleys  leading  to  the  Cour  Batave. 

"  And  accordingly,  sir,"  he  said  continuing,  "the 
prefect  of  police,  to  whom  I  confided  my  embarrass- 
ment— I  took  advantage  of  the  circumstances  to  give 
him  some  pointers  on  the  modifications  to  be  intro- 
duced into  the  laws  that  govern  the  subject — author- 
ized me  to  carry  pistols  for  my  personal  safety." 

The  little  old  man  arose  to  go  look  for  his  pistols. 

"Here  they  are,  sir!"  he  exclaimed. 

"  But,  sir,  you  have  nothing  like  that  to  fear  from 
me,"  said  Birotteau,  looking  at  Cayron,  to  whom  he 
smiled  while  casting  a  glance  at  him  expressive  of 
a  feeling  of  pity  for  such  a  man. 

Molineux  caught  his  look,  was  hurt  at  finding  such 
an  expression  on  the  countenance  of  a  municipal 
officer,  who  ought  to  protect  those  under  his  juris- 
diction. He  would  have  pardoned  it  in  any  one  else, 
but  he  did  not  pardon  it  in  Birotteau. 


IN  HIS  GLORY  127 

"Sir,"  he  continued  dryly,  "one  of  the  most 
highly  esteemed  consular  judges,  a  mayor's  deputy, 
an  honorable  man  of  trade,  would  not  descend  to  such 
pettiness,  for  pettiness  it  is!  But,  in  this  case,  there 
is  a  breaking-through  for  which  you  must  get  the 
consent  of  your  landlord,  the  Comte  de  Granville, 
agreements  to  be  stipulated  for  the  restoration  of  the 
wall  at  the  expiration  of  the  lease;  and  then,  rents 
are  rather  low,  they  will  rise,  the  Place  Vendome 
will  increase  in  value,  yes,  it  will  improve!  the  Rue 
de  Castiglione  is  going  to  be  built  up!  I  bind  myself — 
I  bind  myself — ." 

"Let  us  come  to  a  conclusion,"  said  Birotteau, 
stunned;  "what  do  you  want?  I  am  rather  too 
well  acquainted  with  business  not  to  see  that  your 
reasons  will  yield  to  the  higher  reason,  money! 
Well,  what  must  you  have?" 

"  Nothing  but  what  is  just,  Monsieur  Deputy. 
How  long  has  your  lease  to  run  yet?" 

"Seven  years,"  replied  Birotteau. 

"  In  seven  years  what  may  not  my  second  floor 
be  worth!"  exclaimed  Molineux.  "What  may  not 
two  furnished  rooms  in  that  quarter  rent  for?  over 
two  hundred  francs  a  month,  perhaps!  I  bind  myself, 
I  bind  myself  by  a  lease!  We  will,  then,  advance 
the  rent  to  fifteen  hundred  francs.  At  that  figure  I 
consent  to  cancel  the  lease  for  those  two  rooms  with 
Monsieur  Cayron,  who  is  here,"  he  said  casting  a 
squinting  look  at  the  dealer,  "I  let  you  have  them 
for  seven  consecutive  years.  The  opening  of  the 
wall  will  be  at  your  expense,  on  condition  that  you 


128  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

bring  me  the  Comte  de  Granville's  approval  and 
surrender  of  all  his  rights.  You  will  be  responsible 
for  consequences  of  this  little  opening,  you  will  not 
be  bound  to  restore  the  wall  as  far  as  I  am  concerned, 
and  you  will  give  me  as  indemnity  five  hundred 
francs  now:  we  know  not  who  will  be  living  or  who 
will  be  dead,  I  do  not  want  to  run  after  any  one  to 
restore  the  wall." 

"These  conditions  seem  pretty  nearly  right," 
said  Birotteau. 

"  Then,"  said  Molineux,  "  you  will  count  down  to 
me  seven  hundred  and  fifty  francs,  hie  et  nunc, 
credited  on  the  last  six  months  of  the  use,  the  lease 
will  show  a  receipt  for  it.  Oh!  I  will  accept  small 
notes,  marked  value  in  rent,  so  as  not  to  lose  my 
guarantee,  for  whatever  term  suits  you.  I  am  fair 
and  square  in  business.  We  will  stipulate  that 
you  will  close  up  the  door  opening  on  my  stairway, 
from  which  you  will  have  no  right  of  entering 
— at  your  expense — with  masonry.  Be  assured,  I 
will  ask  no  indemnity  for  the  restoration  at  the  ex- 
piration of  the  lease;  I  regard  it  as  comprised  in 
the  five  hundred  francs.  You  will  always  find  me 
just,  sir." 

"We  men  in  trade  are  not  so  punctilious,"  said 
the  perfumer,  "  business  would  be  impossible  with 
such  formalities." 

"  Oh,  in  trade  it  is  quite  different,  and  especially 
in  the  perfumery  business,  where  everything  fits 
like  a  glove,"  said  the  little  old  man,  with  a  sickly 
smile.     "  But,  sir,  in  the  matter  of  renting,  in  Paris, 


IN  HIS  GLORY  129 

nothing  must  be  overlooked.  See  here,  1  have  had 
a  tenant,  in  the  Rue  Montorgueil — " 

"I  would  be  very  sorry,  sir,"  said  Birotteau,  "to 
delay  your  breakfast:  here  are  the  papers,  make 
your  amendments,  everything  that  you  ask  of  me  is 
understood;  let  us  sign  to-morrow,  let  us  give  each 
other  our  word  to-day,  for  to-morrow  my  architect 
must  be  master  of  the  place." 

"Sir, "continued  Molineux,  looking  at  the  umbrella- 
dealer,  "the  rent  is  due.  Monsieur  Cayron  does  not 
want  to  pay  it,  we  will  add  it  to  the  small  notes  so 
that  the  lease  may  run  from  January  to  January. 
That  will  be  more  regular." 

"  Be  it  so,"  said  Birotteau. 

"  The  dues  for  the  porter — " 

"But,"  said  Birotteau,  "you  deprive  me  of  the 
stairway,  of  the  entrance,  that  is  not  just — " 

"Oh!  you  are  tenant,"  said  little  Molineux  in  a 
peremptory  voice,  astride  of  principle,  "you  owe 
the  taxes  on  doors  and  windows  and  your  share  in 
the  costs.  When  everything  is  well  understood,  sir, 
there  is  no  further  difficulty.  You  are  putting  on  a 
great  deal  of  airs,  sir;  business  is  doing  well?" 

"Yes,"  said  Birotteau.  "But  the  motive  is 
something  else.  I  am  going  to  have  a  gathering  of 
some  friends  as  much  to  celebrate  the  deliverance  of 
the  territory  as  to  have  a  feast  in  honor  of  my  pro- 
motion in  the  Order  of  the  Legion  of  Honor — " 

"Ah!  ah!"  said  Molineux,  "a  reward  well 
merited!" 

"Yes,"  said  Birotteau,  "perhaps  I  have  made 
9 


I30  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

myself  worthy  of  this  distinguished  and  royal  favor 
by  sitting  in  the  consular  court  and  by  fighting  for 
the  Bourbons  on  the  steps  of  Saint-Roch,  on  the 
thirteenth  Vendemiaire,  when  I  was  wounded  by 
Napoleon;  these  titles — " 

"Are  worth  those  of  our  brave  soldiers  of  the  old 
army.  The  ribbon  is  red  because  it  was  steeped  in 
spilt  blood." 

At  these  words,  taken  from  the  Constitutionnel, 
Birotteau  could  not  refrain  from  inviting  little  Moli- 
neux,  who  became  confused  in  returning  thanks  and 
felt  ready  to  pardon  him  for  his  disdain.  The  old 
man  showed  his  new  tenant  to  the  stair-head,  at 
the  same  time  overwhelming  him  with  politeness. 
When  Birotteau  reached  the  middle  of  the  Cour 
Batave  along  with  Cayron,  he  looked  at  his  neigh- 
bor with  a  bantering  air. 

"  I  did  not  think  that  there  could  be  such  weak 
folks  in  existence!"  he  said,  scarcely  withholding 
the  word  stupid. 

"Ah!  sir,"  said  Cayron,  "everybody  hasn't  got 
your  talents." 

Birotteau  might  well  think  himself  a  superior  man 
in  Monsieur  Molineux's  presence;  the  umbrella- 
dealer's  reply  made  him  smile  pleasantly,  and  he 
saluted  him  in  right  royal  fashion. 

"  Now  for  the  Market,"  Birotteau  said  to  himself, 
"  let  us  look  up  the  matter  of  the  hazel-nuts." 

After  an  hour's  search  Birotteau,  sent  by  the 
Market  women  to  the  Rue  des  Lombards,  where 
nuts  were  used  in  making  sugar-plums,  learned  from 


IN  HIS  GLORY  131 

his  friends,  the  Matifats,  that  dry  fruit  was  to  be 
had  wholesale  only  from  a  certain  Madame  Angelique 
Madou,  who  lived  in  the  Rue  Perrin-Gasselin,  the 
only  house  where  were  to  be  had  the  real  Provence 
filbert  and  the  real  white  Alpine  hazel-nut. 

The  Rue  Perrin-Gasselin  is  one  of  the  alleys  of 
the  labyrinth  forming  a  square  inclosed  between  the 
quay,  the  Rue  Saint-Denis,  the  Rue  de  la  Ferron- 
nerie  and  the  Rue  de  la  Monnaie,  and  which  is  as  it 
were  the  entrails  of  the  city.  Swarming  there  in 
infinite  number  are  heterogeneous  and  mixed  mer- 
chandise, nauseating  and  attractive,  herring  and 
muslin,  silk  and  honey,  butter  and  tulle,  especially 
many  small  articles  of  trade  regarding  which  Paris 
has  no  more  doubt  than  most  men  have  regarding 
v^hat  is  cooked  in  their  pancreas,  and  in  which  served 
then  as  bloodsucker  a  certain  Bidault,  called  Gigon- 
net  the  note-shaver,  living  in  the  Rue  Grenetat. 
Here  former  stables  are  filled  with  oil  casks,  the 
shipping  department  contains  myriads  of  cotton 
stockings.  There  is  carried  on  the  wholesale  trade 
in  provisions  sold  at  retail  in  the  Market.  Madame 
Madou,  a  former  fish-monger,  forced  ten  years  ago 
into  the  dry  fruit  by  a  union  with  the  former  owner 
of  her  business,  which  had  long  furnished  food 
for  the  gossipings  of  the  Market,  was  a  virile  and 
tantalizing  beauty,  then  hidden  in  excessive  corpu- 
lency. She  occupied  the  first  floor  of  a  yellow 
house  badly  out  of  repair,  but  kept  together  on 
each  floor  by  iron  cross-bars.  The  deceased  had 
succeeded  in   getting  rid  of  his  competitors  and   in 


132  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

converting  his  trade  into  a  monopoly;  in  spite  of  some 
slight  defects  of  education,  his  heiress  was  able  then 
to  continue  it  in  a  routine  way,  parading  through 
her  stores,  which  occupied  shipping  offices,  stables 
and  former  workshops  in  which  she  fought  success- 
fully against  insects.  Without  desk,  or  cash-box,  or 
books,  for  she  could  neither  read  nor  write,  she  an- 
swered a  letter  by  pounding  with  her  fist,  regarding 
it  as  an  insult.  In  other  respects,  a  good  woman, 
with  a  florid  complexion,  wearing  a  silk  handker- 
chief over  her  bonnet, winning  by  her  ophicleide  voice 
the  esteem  of  the  carters  who  brought  her  merchan- 
dise, and  her  altercations  with  whom  ended  in  a 
bottle  of  petit  hlanc.  She  could  not  have  any  trouble 
with  the  growers  who  shipped  fruit  to  her,  as  they 
corresponded  with  spot  cash,  the  only  way  of  having 
an  understanding  with  one  another,  and  old  woman 
Madou  went  to  see  them  in  the  fine  season.  Birot- 
teau  noticed  this  wild  dealer  amid  bags  of  hazel- 
nuts, chestnuts  and  other  kinds. 

"Good-day,  my  dear  lady,"  said  Birotteau  with 
an  air  of  levity. 

*' Your  dear ! "  she  said.  "  Eh!  my  son,  you  knew 
me  then  from  having  had  pleasant  relations  with 
me?     Have  we  had  cards  up  our  sleeves  together?" 

"  I  am  a  perfumer,  and,  moreover,  deputy  to  the 
mayor  of  the  second  arrondissement  of  Paris;  so 
both  as  magistrate  and  purchaser  I  am  entitled  to 
being  spoken  to  by  you  in  a  different  tone  of 
voice." 

"  I  get  married  when  I  please,"  said  the  virago, 


IN   HIS  GLORY  1 33 

"  I  am  under  no  obligation  to  the  mayor's  office  and 
don't  bother  the  deputies.  As  for  my  customers, 
they  adore  me,  and  I  speak  to  'em  as  I  please.  If 
they  are  not  satisfied  they  go  waste  their  time  some- 
where else." 

"That's  monopoly  for  you!"  murmured  Birot- 
teau. 

"  Popole!  he's  my  god-son:  he  may  have  done 
something  foolish;  is  it  for  him  you  are  coming,  my 
honorable  magistrate?"  she  said  in  a  milder  voice. 

"No,  I  have  had  the  honor  of  telling  you  that  I 
have  come  as  a  buyer." 

"Very  well,  what  do  you  call  yourself,  chappie.? 
I  never  see  you  comin'  here  before." 

"  With  that  tone  of  voice,  you  ought  to  sell  hazel- 
nuts very  cheap?"  remarked  Birotteau,  who  gave 
his  name  and  stated  his  position. 

"Ah!  you  are  the  famous  Birotteau  as  has  a 
pretty  wife.  And  how  much  do  you  want,  some  of 
these  sugared  hazel-nuts,  sweetheart?" 

"  Six  thousand  by  weight." 

"That's  all  I  have  of  them,"  said  the  dealer, 
speaking  like  a  flute  out  of  tune.  "My  dear  sir, 
you  are  not  one  of  the  slow  ones  in  marryin'  girls 
and  scenting  them!  God  bless  you,  but  it's  you 
that  has  the  nice  job.  Excuse  the  small  stock! 
What  a  fine  customer  you  will  be,  and  you  will 
have  a  place  in  the  woman's  heart  I  love  best  in 
the  world—" 

"Who  is  that?" 

"  Well,  the  dear  Madame  Madou." 


134  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

"  How  much  are  your  hazel-nuts?" 

"To  you,  my  good  man,  twenty-five  francs  the 
hundred,  if  you  take  them  all." 

"Twenty-five  francs,"  said  Birotteau,  "fifteen 
hundred  francs!  And  I  will  perhaps  want  them  by 
hundreds  of  thousands  a  year!" 

"  But  they  are  a  fine  stock,  gathered  bare-footed!" 
she  said  as  she  plunged  her  ruddy  arm  into  a  bag  of 
filberts.  "And  not  hollow  either!  my  dear  sir. 
When  you  think  that  grocers  sell  them  for  dessert  at 
twenty-four  cents  a  pound,  and  that  in  every  four 
pounds  they  put  over  a  pound  of  common  hazel-nuts. 
Must  I  lose  on  my  stock  to  please  you?  You  are 
genteel,  but  you  do  not  please  me  enough  for  that! 
If  you  want  so  much,  I  will  let  you  have  them  for 
twenty  francs,  for  I  mustn't  lose  the  custom  of  a 
deputy,  that  wouldn't  be  well  for  the  married  men! 
Feel  what  fine  goods  they  are,  and  how  heavy! 
They  are  scarcely  fifty  to  the  pound !  they  are  sound, 
no  worms  in  them!" 

"  Come,  then,  send  me  six  thousand  at  two 
thousand  francs  and  at  ninety  days,  to  my  factory 
in  the  Rue  du  Faubourg  du  Temple,  very  early  to- 
morrow morning." 

"  That  will  keep  one  as  busy  as  a  married 
woman.  All  right,  farewell,  Monsieur  Mayor,  no  harm 
meant.  But  if  it  is  all  the  same  to  you,"  she  said 
following  Birotteau  into  the  courtyard,  "I  would 
prefer  your  notes  at  forty  days,  for  I  am  letting  you 
have  them  too  cheap,  and  1  cannot  yet  lose  the 
discount!     With  that,  what  a  tender  heart  he  has. 


IN   HIS  GLORY  1 35 

that  old  man  Gigonnet,  he  sucks  our  marrow  as  a 
spider  sips  from  a  fly." 

"Well,  yes,  at  fifty  days.  But  we  will  weigh  by 
the  hundred  pounds,  so  as  not  to  have  any  hollow 
ones.     Otherwise  no  bargain." 

"Ah!  the  dog,  he  knows  his  business,"  said 
Madame  Madou;  "  you  can't  shut  his  eye  up.  It  is 
those  knaves  of  the  Rue  des  Lombards  who  have  put 
him  up  to  that!  Those  big  wolves  have  all  an  under- 
standing with  one  another  to  devour  the  poor  lambs. " 

The  lamb  was  five  feet  high  and  three  feet  across, 
she  looked  like  a  big  stone  dressed  in  striped  cotton 
stuff  without  a  belt. 

The  perfumer,  engrossed  in  his  schemes,  was 
meditating  as  he  went  along  the  Rue  Saint-Honore 
on  his  duel  with  Macassar  oil,  he  was  working  out 
his  labels,  the  shape  of  his  bottles,  and  was  calcu- 
lating as  to  the  character  of  the  cork  and  the  color  of 
the  placards.  And  yet  people  will  say  that  there  is 
no  poetry  in  trade!  Newton  did  not  make  any  more 
calculations  for  his  celebrated  binomial  theorem  than 
did  Birotteau  for  his  comagenoiis  essence,  for  the  oil 
became  essence,  and  he  was  going  from  one  expres- 
sion to  the  other  without  knowing  their  meaning. 
All  sorts  of  combinations  were  crowding  one  another 
in  his  head,  and  he  took  this  activity  in  the  vacuum 
for  substantial  action  of  talent.  Thus  preoccupied, 
he  went  past  the  Rue  des  Bourdonnais  and  was 
obliged  to  retrace  his  steps  as  he  bethought  himself 
of  his  uncle. 


* 

Claude- Joseph  Pillerault,  formerly  a  dealer  in  iron 
and  copper-ware  at  the  sign  La  Cloche  d'or,  was  one 
of  those  men  who  are  fme-looking  because  of  what 
they  are:  get-up  and  manners,  understanding  and 
heart,  language  and  thought,  all  harmonized  in  him. 
Madame  Birotteau's  sole  and  only  relative,  Pillerault 
had  concentrated  all  his  affections  on  her  and 
Cesarine,  after  having  lost,  in  the  course  of  his 
commercial  career,  his  wife  and  son,  then  an  adopted 
child,  the  son  of  his  cook.  These  severe  bereave- 
ments had  cast  this  good  man  into  a  state  of  Christian 
stoicism,  a  specious  belief  that  animated  his  life  and 
colored  his  last  days  with  a  tint  at  the  same  time 
warm  and  cold  like  to  that  which  gilds  winter  sun- 
sets. His  head,  spare  and  hollowed,  having  a  severe 
expression,  in  which  ochre  and  bistre  were  harmon- 
iously blended,  presented  a  striking  analogy  with 
that  which  painters  ascribe  to  Time,  but  making  it 
look  common,  for  the  habits  of  commercial  life  had 
lessened  in  him  the  monumental  and  snappish 
characteristic  exaggerated  by  painters,  sculptors  and 
clock  makers.  Of  medium  height,  Pillerault  was 
rather  thick-set  than  stout,  nature  had  cut  him  out 
for  work  and  longevity,  his  square  build  bespoke  a 
strong  frame,  for  he  was  of  a  dry  temperament, 
without  any  outward  emotion,  but  yet  not  unimpres- 
sionable.    Pillerault,  by  no  means  demonstrative,  as 

(136) 


IN  HIS  GLORY  1 37 

was  indicated  by  his  calm  bearing  and  his  set  figure, 
had  a  sensibility  that  was  all  internal,  expressionless 
and  unemphatic.  His  eye,  the  pupil  of  which  was 
green,  speckled  with  black  points,  was  remarkable 
for  its  unchanging  clearness.  His  forehead,  furrowed 
by  straight  lines  and  yellowed  by  time,  was  small, 
contracted,  hard,  covered  with  silvery  gray  hair  cut 
short,  and,  as  it  were,  matted.  His  fine  mouth  be- 
spoke prudence  and  not  avarice.  His  sprightly  eye 
revealed  a  well-spent  life.  In  fine,  honesty,  the 
sense  of  duty,  real  modesty,  were  to  him  as  an 
aureola  making  his  figure  the  picture  of  good  health. 
For  sixty  years  he  had  led  the  toilsome  and  frugal 
life  of  a  hard  worker.  His  history  resembled  that  of 
Cesar,  minus  the  fortunate  circumstances.  A  clerk 
until  he  was  thirty,  his  money  was  invested  in  his 
trade  just  when  Cesar  was  using  his  savings  to  buy 
funds;  in  fine,  he  had  put  himself  to  the  utmost 
stretch,  all  his  resources  had  been  put  to  use.  His 
wise  and  reserved  character,  his  foresight  and 
mathematical  reflection  had  influenced  his  method  of 
working.  Most  of  his  business  transactions  were 
concluded  by  word  of  mouth,  and  he  had  seldom  had 
any  trouble.  An  observer,  like  all  contemplative 
people,  he  studied  men  by  letting  them  talk;  he 
then  often  refused  advantageous  offers  taken  by  his 
neighbors,  who  later  on  repented  while  saying  to 
themselves  that  Pillerault  scented  the  sharpers.  He 
preferred  the  smallest  profits  if  they  were  safe  to 
those  bold  strokes  that  put  large  sums  at  stake. 
He  kept  sheet-iron  for  fireplaces,  gridirons,  heavy 


138  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

andirons,  brass  and  iron  cauldrons,  hoes  and  fur- 
nishings for  the  peasantry.  This  rather  thank- 
less business  required  excessive  mechanical  work. 
The  profit  was  not  in  proportion  to  the  labor,  there 
was  little  profit  on  these  heavy  articles,  hard  to  move 
and  to  store.  And  so  he  had  nailed  up  many  cases, 
packed  many  parcels,  unpacked,  received  many  loads. 
No  fortune  was  either  more  nobly  gained,  or  more 
legitimate,  or  more  honorable  than  his.  He  had 
never  overcharged,  he  had  never  run  after  business. 
In  later  days  he  was  to  be  seen  smoking  his  pipe  in 
front  of  his  door,  looking  at  the  transients  and  watch- 
ing his  clerks  at  work.  In  1814,  about  the  time  he 
retired,  his  fortune  at  first  consisted  of  seventy 
thousand  francs,  as  shown  by  his  ledger,  of  which 
he  had  five  thousand  and  a  few  hundred  francs  in 
the  funds;  then  forty  thousand  francs  payable 
in  five  years  without  interest,  the  price  of  his  busi- 
ness, sold  to  one  of  his  clerks.  For  thirty  years, 
doing  annually  a  business  of  a  hundred  thousand 
francs,  he  had  made  seven  per  cent  on  this  sum, 
and  his  living  absorbed  half  his  gains.  Such  was 
his  balance.  His  neighbors,  by  no  means  envious 
of  this  moderate  business,  praised  his  wisdom  with- 
out understanding  it.  At  the  corner  of  the  Rue 
de  la  Monnaie  and  the  Rue  Saint-Honore  is  the 
Cafe  David,  where  some  old  merchants  went,  like 
Pillerault,  to  have  their  evening  coffee.  There, 
occasionally,  the  adoption  of  the  cook's  son  had 
been  the  subject  of  some  pleasantries,  such  as  are 
made  with  a  man  who  is  respected,  for  the  dealer  in 


IN  HIS  GLORY  139 

iron  and  copper-ware  inspired  respectful  esteem 
without  having  sought  it :  his  own  was  enough  for 
him.  And  so,  when  Pillerault  lost  this  poor  young 
man,  there  were  over  two  hundred  persons  at  the 
funeral  who  went  all  the  way  to  the  cemetery.  On 
that  occasion  he  was  heroic.  His  grief,  concealed 
like  that  of  all  men  of  character  without  show, 
increased  the  sympathy  of  the  section  for  this  good 
man,  a  term  used  in  regard  to  Pillerault  in  a  tone  that 
enhanced  its  meaning  and  ennobled  him.  Claude 
Pillerault's  sobriety,  having  become  a  habit,  could 
not  give  way  to  the  pleasures  of  a  life  of  ease,  when, 
having  given  up  trade,  he  retired  into  that  rest 
which  weakens  so  many  Parisians  of  the  middle 
class;  he  continued  his  mode  of  life  and  animated 
his  old  age  by  his  political  convictions,  which,  we 
may  say,  were  those  of  the  Extreme  Left.  Pillerault 
belonged  to  that  working-class  party  added  by  the 
Revolution  to  the  middle-class.  The  only  stain  on 
his  character  was  the  importance  he  added  to  his 
conquest:  he  held  to  his  rights,  to  liberty,  to  the 
fruits  of  the  Revolution;  he  regarded  his  ease  and 
his  political  consistency  as  compromised  by  the 
Jesuits,  whose  secret  power  was  proclaimed  by  the 
Liberals,  menaced  as  they  were  by  the  ideas  which 
the  Constitutionnel  attributed  to  MONSIEUR.  He  was, 
moreover,  true  to  his  life,  to  his  ideas;  there  was 
nothing  narrow  in  his  politics,  he  did  not  insult  his 
adversaries,  he  was  afraid  of  the  courtiers,  he  be- 
lieved in  the  republican  virtues:  he  imagined  Manuel 
free  from  every  excess,  General  Foy  a  great  man, 


140  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

Casimir  Perier  without  ambition,  La  Fayette  a  politi- 
cal prophet,  Courier  a  good  man.  He,  in  fine, 
entertained  noble  chimeras.  This  fine  old  man 
lived  the  family  life,  he  went  to  the  Ragons'  and  to 
his  niece's  house,  to  Judge  Popinot's,  to  Joseph 
Lebas's  and  the  Matifats'.  Personally,  fifteen  hun- 
dred francs  supplied  all  his  needs.  As  for  the  rest 
of  his  income,  he  spent  it  on  good  works,  on  presents 
to  his  grand-niece;  he  gave  dinners  four  times  a  year 
to  his  friends  at  Roland's,  in  the  Rue  du  Hasard, 
and  took  them  to  the  theatre.  He  played  the  part 
of  those  old  bachelors  on  whom  married  women 
draw  bills  of  exchange  at  sight  as  the  fancy  strikes 
them:  a  country  party,  the  Opera,  the  Montagnes- 
Beaujon.  Pillerault  was  then  happy  in  the  pleasure 
he  gave,  he  enjoyed  himself  in  the  enjoyment  of 
others.  Having  sold  his  business,  he  did  not  want 
to  leave  the  section  to  which  he  had  been  habituated, 
and  he  had  taken,  in  the  Rue  des  Bourdonnais,  a 
small  tenement  of  three  rooms  on  the  fifth  floor  of 
an  old  house.  Just  as  Molineux's  manners  were 
reflected  in  his  strange  furniture,  so  Pillerault's  pure 
and  simple  life  was  revealed  by  the  interior  arrange- 
ments of  his  tenement,  made  up  of  an  antechamber, 
a  parlor  and  a  bed-room.  In  its  dimensions  it  was 
almost  like  a  Carthusian's  cell.  The  antechamber, 
with  its  red  and  rubbed  floor,  had  only  one  window 
adorned  with  curtains  of  fine  calico  with  red  borders, 
mahogany  chairs  upholstered  with  red  sheep-leather 
and  gilt  nails;  the  walls  were  hung  with  olive-green 
paper   and   adorned   with   the  Americans'  Oath,  a 


IN  HIS  GLORY  141 

portrait  of  Bonaparte  as  First  Consul,  and  the  Battle 
of  Austerlit:{_.  The  parlor,  no  doubt  arranged  by  the 
upholsterer,  had  yellow  rosaceous  furniture  and  a 
rug;  the  furnishings  of  the  mantel-piece  in  bronze 
without  gilding,  a  painted  fire-screen,  a  pier-table  with 
a  flower-vase  under  a  glass-case,  a  round  covered 
table  on  which  stood  a  decanter.  The  newness  of 
this  room  sufificiently  bespoke  a  sacrifice  made  to 
worldly  custom  by  the  old  dealer  in  iron  and  copper- 
ware,  who  rarely  received.  In  his  bed-room,  plain 
as  that  of  a  monk  or  an  old  soldier,  the  two  men 
who  best  appreciate  life,  a  crucifix,  with  holy  water 
font,  placed  in  its  alcove,  struck  the  eye.  This  pro- 
fession of  faith  in  a  stoical  republican  was  deeply 
emotional.  An  old  woman  came  to  keep  his  house 
in  order,  but  his  respect  for  women  was  so  great 
that  he  did  not  let  her  polish  his  shoes,  cleaned  by 
contract  with  a  boot-black.  His  costume  was  simple 
and  unchangeable.  He  customarily  wore  an  overcoat 
and  trousers  of  blue  cloth,  a  printed  cotton  vest, 
a  white  cravat  and  very  low  shoes;  on  week-days 
he  put  on  a  suit  with  metal  buttons.  His  habits  for 
rising,  breakfast,  going  out,  dinner,  evening  and 
return  to  his  lodgings  were  marked  by  the  strictest 
exactness,  for  regularity  of  habits  is  conducive  to 
long  life  and  health.  There  was  never  any  question 
of  politics  between  Cesar,  the  Ragons,  the  Abbe 
Loraux  and  himself,  for  the  folk  of  this  coterie  knew 
one  another  too  well  to  make  assaults  with  the 
view  of  proselytism.  Like  his  nephew  and  the 
Ragons,  he   had  great  confidence  in  Roguin.     To 


142  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

him  the  Paris  notary  was  always  a  being  to  be 
venerated,  a  living  image  of  probity.  In  the  matter 
of  the  land  Pillerault  had  undertaken  a  counter- 
examination  which  was  the  reason  for  the  confidence 
with  which  Cesar  had  opposed  his  wife's  forebod- 
ings. 

The  perfumer  ascended  the  seventy-eight  steps 
that  led  to  the  little  brown  door  of  his  uncle's  tene- 
ment, thinking  that  this  old  man  must  be  very  fresh 
to  climb  them  without  complaint.  He  found  the 
overcoat  and  the  trousers  spread  on  the  valise  placed 
outside;  Madame  Vaillant  brushed  and  rubbed  them 
while  this  genuine  philosopher,  enveloped  in  a  gray 
swan's-down  overcoat,  was  breakfasting  in  his  chim- 
ney corner,  and  reading  the  parliamentary  debates 
in  the  Constitutionnel  or  the  Journal  dii  Commerce. 

"Uncle,"  said  Cesar,  "the  affair  is  concluded, 
they  are  going  to  draw  up  the  deeds.  If,  however, 
you  have  any  fears  or  regrets,  it  is  time  enough  yet 
to  break  off." 

"Why  should  I  break  off?  The  matter  is  good, 
but  not  to  be  realized  upon  for  a  long  time,  like  all 
sure  things.  My  fifty  thousand  francs  are  in  the 
Bank,  I  handled  yesterday  the  last  five  thousand 
for  my  business.  As  for  the  Ragons,  they  are 
putting  their  whole  fortune  in  it." 

"Well,  what  have  they  to  live  on?" 

"  Indeed,  don't  be  uneasy,  they  are  making 
out." 

"Uncle,  I  understand  you,"  said  Birotteau  with 
emotion  and  clasping  the  austere  old  man's  hands. 


IN  HIS   GLORY  143 

"How  will  the  business  be  done?"  Pillerault 
asked  brusquely. 

"I  will  have  a  three-eighths  interest  in  it,  you 
and  the  Ragons  one-eighth;  I  will  credit  you  on  my 
books  until  a  decision  has  been  reached  regarding 
the  question  of  the  deeds  as  passed  upon  by  the 
notary." 

"Good,  my  boy,  you  are  very  rich,  then,  to  be 
able  to  put  three  hundred  thousand  francs  in  it?  It 
seems  to  me  that  you  take  a  big  risk  outside  of  your 
business;  will  it  not  suffer  accordingly?  But  that  is 
your  concern.  If  you  met  with  a  reverse,  there  are 
the  funds  at  eighty,  I  could  sell  two  thousand  francs 
of  my  consols.  Take  care,  my  boy:  if  you  had 
recourse  to  me,  it  would  be  your  daughter's  fortune 
you  would  be  investing." 

"  Uncle,  how  simply  you  say  the  most  beautiful 
things!  you  touch  my  heart." 

"General  Foy  touched  mine  quite  otherwise  a 
while  ago!  In  fine,  go  and  close;  the  land  will  not 
fly  away,  half  of  it  will  be  ours;  even  were  it  neces- 
sary to  wait  six  years,  we  will  always  have  some 
interest,  there  are  wood-yards  that  bring  rents,  one 
can  therefore  lose  nothing. — There  is  only  one 
chance,  yet  it  is  impossible,  Roguin  will  not  run 
away  with  our  property — " 

"  Yet  my  wife  said  as  much  last  night,  she 
fears — " 

"Roguin  run  off  with  our  property!"  said  Piller- 
ault laughing,  "and  why?" 

"  He  has,  she  says,  too  much  character  in  his 


144  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

nose,  and,  like  all  men  who  cannot  have  wives,  he 
is  madly  in  love  with — " 

After  having  let  slip  a  smile  of  incredulity, 
Pillerault  went  and  tore  a  piece  of  paper  from  a 
little  note-book,  wrote  down  the  amount  and  signed. 

"Here,  there  is  an  order  on  the  Bank  for  a 
hundred  thousand  francs  for  Ragon  and  myself. 
But  those  poor  people  have  sold  to  your  wicked 
knave,  Du  Tillet,  their  fifteen  shares  in  the  Wort- 
schin  mines  to  make  up  the  sum.  It  touches  my 
heart  to  see  good  people  in  straits.  And  folk  so 
worthy,  so  noble,  the  flower  of  the  old  middle-class, 
indeed!  Their  brother.  Judge  Popinot,  knows  noth- 
ing of  it,  they  conceal  their  circumstances  from  him 
so  as  not  to  prevent  him  from  devoting  himself  to 
his  beneficence.  People  who  have  worked  as  I 
have  done  for  thirty  years — " 

"  God  grant,  then,  that  the  Comagenous  Oil  may 
succeed!"  exclaimed  Birotteau,  "I  will  be  doubly 
glad  of  it.  Adieu,  uncle;  you  will  come  to  dinner  on 
Sunday  along  with  the  Ragons,  Roguin  and  Monsieur 
Claperon,  for  we  will  all  sign  the  day  after  to-morrow, 
and,  to-morrow  being  Friday,  I  do  not  want  to  attend 
to  bus—" 

"You  believe,  then,  in  those  superstitions?" 

"  Uncle,  I  will  never  believe  that  the  day  on 
which  the  Son  of  God  was  put  to  death  by  men  is  a 
lucky  day.  Indeed,  all  business  is  stopped  on 
January  21." 

"  Until  Sunday,"  said  Pillerault  brusquely. 

"  Without  his  political  opinions,"  Birotteau  said  to 


IN  HIS   GLORY  145 

himself  as  he  went  down  the  stairs,  "  I  do  not  know 
whether  there  would  be  his  like  here  below,  the  like 
of  that  uncle  of  mine.  What  does  politics  do  to 
him?  He  would  be  so  happy  by  not  thinking  of  it 
at  all.  His  having  that  hobby  proves  that  no  man 
is  perfect.  Three  o'clock  already,"  said  Cesar  as 
he  reached  his  own  house. 

"Sir,  you  are  taking  those  notes?"  Celestine 
asked  of  him,  showing  him  the  umbrella-dealer's 
driblets. 

"  Yes,  at  six,  without  commission.  Wife,  get 
everything  ready  for  my  toilet,  1  am  going  to  Mon- 
sieur Vauquelin's,  you  know  why.  A  white  cravat 
especially." 

Birotteau  gave  some  orders  to  his  clerks:  he  did 
not  see  Popinot,  guessed  that  his  future  partner  was 
dressing,  and  at  once  went  up  to  his  room,  where  he 
found  the  Dresden  Virgin  magnificently  framed,  in 
accordance  with  his  instructions. 

"Well,  it  is  pretty?"  he  said  to  his  daughter. 

"But,  papa,  say  rather  that  it  is  beautiful; 
otherwise  people  will  make  fun  of  you." 

"See  the  girl  grumbling  at  her  father! — Well, 
for  my  taste,  I  like  Hero  and  Leander  just  as 
well.  The  Virgin  is  a  religious  subject,  that  may 
be  put  in  a  chapel;  but  Hero  and  Leander,  ha!  I  will 
purchase  it,  for  the  oil  flask  has  inspired  me  with 
ideas — " 

"  But,  papa,  1  do  not  understand  you." 

"Virginia,  a  hack!"  exclaimed  Cesar  in  a  loud 
voice  when  he  had  shaved  and  when  the  timid 
10 


146  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

Popinot    appeared    dragging    his    feet    after    him, 
because  of  Cesarine. 

The  lover  had  not  yet  observed  that  his  infirmity 
no  longer  existed  as  far  as  his  mistress  was  con- 
cerned. A  delightful  proof  of  love  that  people  on 
whom  chance  has  inflicted  any  physical  defect  may 
alone  experience. 

"  Sir,"  he  said,  "the  press  can  be  put  to  work 
to-morrow." 

"  Well,  what  ails  you,  Popinot?"  Cesar  asked  on 
seeing  Anselme  blush. 

"  Sir,  it  is  the  happiness  of  having  found  a  shop, 
a  rear  shop,  a  kitchen  and  rooms  overhead,  and 
stores,  for  twelve  hundred  francs  a  year,  in  the  Rue 
des  Cinq-Diamants." 

"We  must  get  a  lease  for  eighteen  years,"  said 
Birotteau.  "  But  let  us  be  off  to  Monsieur  Vauque- 
lin's,  we  will  chat  on  the  way." 

Cesar  and  Popinot  got  into  the  hack  in  full  view 
of  the  clerks  astonished  at  those  extraordinary  prep- 
arations and  an  abnormal  carriage,  not  knowing 
what  great  things  were  being  thought  of  by  the 
master  of  La  Reine  des  Roses. 

I    "  We  are,  then,  going  to  know  the  truth  about  the 
hazel-nuts!"  said  the  perfumer. 

"Hazel-nuts?"  interposed  Popinot. 

"You  have  my  secret,  Popinot,"  said  the  per- 
fumer, "  I  have  let  the  word  ha:(el-mit  slip,  every- 
thing is  in  that.  Hazel-nut  oil  is  the  only  one  that 
produces  action  on  the  hair,  and  no  perfumery  house 
has  thought  of  it.     On  seeing  the  engraving  of.  Hero 


IN  HIS  GLORY  147 

ajid  Leander  I  said  to  myself:  '  If  the  ancients  used 
so  much  oil  for  their  hair,  they  had  some  reason;' 
for  the  ancients  are  the  ancients!  hi  spite  of  modern 
pretensions,  1  am  of  Boileau's  opinion  about  the 
ancients.  I  set  out  from  that  point  to  reach  the 
hazel-nut  oil,  thanks  to  little  Bianchon,  the  medical 
student,  your  relative;  he  told  me  that  at  the 
College  his  comrades  used  hazel-nut  oil  to  stimulate 
the  growth  of  their  mustaches  and  whiskers.  All 
that  is  left  for  us  to  do  now  is  to  get  the  illustrious 
Monsieur  Vauquelin's  sanction.  Enlightened  by 
him,  we  will  not  deceive  the  public.  Just  a  little 
while  ago  I  was  at  the  Market,  to  see  a  dealer  in 
hazel-nuts,  so  as  to  have  the  first  essential;  in  a 
jiffy  I  will  be  with  one  of  the  greatest  scholars  in 
France  to  know  how  to  get  the  quintessence  out  of 
it.  Proverbs  are  not  silly,  extremes  meet.  See, 
my  boy,  trade  is  the  intermediary  between  the 
vegetable  products  and  science.  Angelique  Madou 
gathers.  Monsieur  Vauquelin  extracts,  and  we  sell 
an  essence.  Hazel-nuts  are  worth  five  sous  a  pound, 
Monsieur  Vauquelin  is  going  to  multiply  their  value 
a  hundredfold,  and  we  will  do  a  service  perhaps  to 
humanity,  for,  if  vanity  is  the  cause  of  great  torment 
to  man,  a  good  cosmetic  is  then  a  blessing." 

The  reverential  admiration  with  which  Popinot 
listened  to  Cesarine's  father  stimulated  Birotteau's 
eloquence,  and  he  allowed  himself  to  use  the  wildest 
phrases  that  a  middle-class  man  can  invent. 

"Be  respectful,  Anselme,"  he  said  as  they 
entered  the  street  in  which  Vauquelin  lived,   "we 


148  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

are  going  to  penetrate  into  the  sanctuary  of  science. 
Put  the  yirgin  in  evidence,  unaffectedly,  on  a  chair 
in  the  dining-room.  Provided  I  do  not  get  mixed  up 
in  what  I  want  to  say,"  naively  exclaimed  Birotteau. 
**  Popinot,  this  man  makes  a  chemical  impression  on 
me,  his  voice  warms  my  entrails  and  gives  me  even 
a  slight  colic.  He  is  my  benefactor,  and  in  a  few 
moments,  Anselme,  he  will  be  yours." 

These  words  gave  a  chill  to  Popinot,  who  walked 
as  if  he  were  treading  on  eggs,  and  looked  at  the 
walls  with  a  restless  stare.  Monsieur  Vauquelin 
was  in  his  office  when  Birotteau's  arrival  was 
announced.  The  academician  knew  the  perfumer 
who  was  deputy  to  the  mayor  and  knew  him  to  be 
in  great  favor;  he  received  him. 

"  You  do  not  forget  me,  then,  in  your  greatness.-*" 
said  the  scholar;  "but  from  chemist  to  perfumer  is 
only  a  hand's  breadth." 

"  Alas!  sir,  from  your  genius  to  the  simplicity  of  a 
poor  man  like  me  is  immensity  itself.  I  owe  to  you 
what  you  call  my  greatness,  and  will  not  forget  it 
either  in  this  world  or  in  the  next." 

"  Oh!  in  the  next,  some  say,  we  will  all  be  equal, 
kings  and  cobblers." 

"  That  is,  the  kings  and  cobblers  who  shall  have 
lived  a  holy  life,"  Birotteau  observed. 

"  This  is  your  son?"  Vauquelin  asked,  looking  at 
little  Popinot,  who  seemed  dazed  at  seeing  nothing 
extraordinary  in  the  office  in  which  he  had  believed 
he  would  find  monstrosities,  gigantic  machines, 
flying  metals,  animated  substances. 


IN  HIS  GLORY  1 49 

"  No,  sir,  but  he  is  a  young  man  whom  I  love  and 
who  comes  to  implore  a  kindness  equal  to  your 
talent;  is  it  not  infmite?"  he  said  with  a  knowing 
air.  "  We  have  to  consult  you  a  second  time,  after 
an  interval  of  sixteen  years,  on  an  important  matter, 
and  on  which  1  am  ignorant  as  a  perfumer." 

"  Let  us  see,  what  is  it?" 

"I  know  that  hair  occupies  your  vigils,  and  that 
you  are  studying  its  analysis!  Whilst  you  have 
been  thinking  of  it  for  glory,  1  have  been  thinking  of 
it  for  trade." 

"  Dear  Monsieur  Birotteau,  what  do  you  want  me 
to  do?    Analyze  the  hair?" 

He  took  a  small  piece  of  paper. 

"1  am  going  to  read  before  the  Academy  of 
Science  a  memoir  on  this  subject.  Hair  is  made  up 
of  a  large  quantity  of  mucus,  a  small  quantity  of 
white  oil,  much  greenish  black  oil,  iron,  some  atoms 
of  oxide  of  manganese,  phosphate  of  lime,  a  very 
small  quantity  of  carbonate  of  lime,  silica  and  a 
considerable  amount  of  sulphur.  The  different  pro- 
portions of  these  substances  cause  the  different  colors 
of  hair.  Thus  red  hair  has  much  more  of  the 
greenish  black  oil  than  of  the  others." 

Cesar  and  Popinot  opened  their  eyes  to  a  size 
that  was  laughable. 

"  Nine  things!"  exclaimed  Birotteau.  "What! 
there  are  found  in  a  hair  metals  and  oils?  Were  it 
not  you,  a  man  whom  I  venerate,  who  tell  me  of  it, 
1  would  not  believe  it.  How  extraordinary! — God  is 
great,  Monsieur  Vauquelin." 


I50  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

"Hair  is  produced  by  a  follicular  organ,"  the 
great  chemist  continued,  "a  sort  of  pocket  open  at 
both  ends:  by  one  it  is  connected  with  the  nerves 
and  the  vessels,  from  the  other  starts  the  hair. 
According  to  some  of  our  learned  brethren,  and 
among  them  Monsieur  de  Blainville,  hair  is  a  dead 
part  expelled  from  this  pocket  or  crypt  that  is  filled 
with  a  pulpy  substance." 

"  it  is,  as  it  were,  perspiration  in  sticks,"  exclaimed 
Popinot,  whom  the  perfumer  kicked  on  the  heel. 

Vauquelin  smiled  at  Popinot's  idea. 

"It  has  uses,  has  it  not.-'"  Cesar  then  said  as 
he  looked  at  Popinot.  "  But,  if  hair  is  dead-born,  it 
is  impossible  to  make  it  live,  we  are  lost!  The  pros- 
pectus is  absurd;  you  do  not  know  how  funny  the 
public  is,  one  could  not  tell  it — " 

"  That  it  has  a  dung-hill  on  its  head,"  said 
Popinot,  still  wishing  to  make  Vauquelin  laugh. 

"  Aerial  catacombs,"  replied  the  chemist,  con- 
tinuing the  pleasantry. 

"  And  my  hazel-nuts  that  have  been  bought!" 
exclaimed  Birotteau,  realizing  the  commercial  loss. 
"  But  why  do  they  sell—" 

"  Be  reassured,"  said  Vauquelin,  smiling:  "  I  see 
that  it  is  a  question  of  some  secret  for  keeping  the  hair 
from  falling  out  or  turning  gray.  Listen,  this  is  my 
opinion  on  the  subject,  after  all  my  labor." 

Here  Popinot  set  his  ears  like  a  frightened  hare. 

"  The  discoloration  of  this  dead  or  living  substance 
is,  in  my  opinion,  produced  by  the  interruption  of 
the  secretion  of  the  coloring  substances,  which  would 


IN  HIS   GLORY  I  51 

explain  how,  in  cold  climates,  the  hair  of  fine-furred 
animals  grows  pale  and  whitens  in  winter." 

"Hem!  Popinot." 

"  It  is  evident,"  Vauquelin  continued,  "  that  the 
alteration  of  the  hair  is  due  to  sudden  changes  in  the 
ambient  temperature — " 

"Ambient,  Popinot — hold,  hold  on  to  it!"  ex- 
claimed Cesar. 

"Yes,"  said  Vauquelin,  "to  alterations  of  heat 
and  cold,  or  to  internal  phenomena  that  produce  the 
same  effect.  Thus,  probably,  headaches  and  cephal- 
algic  affections  absorb,  dissipate  or  displace  the 
generating  fluids.  The  internal  requires  medicine. 
As  for  the  external,  then  come  your  cosmetics." 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Birotteau,  "you  revive  me.  I 
have  thought  of  selling  hazel-nut  oil,  thinking  that 
the  ancients  made  use  of  oil  for  their  hair,  and  the 
ancients  are  the  ancients,  I  am  of  Boileau's  opinion. 
Why  did  the  athletes  anoint — ?" 

"  Olive  oil  is  as  good  as  hazel-nut  oil,"  said  Vau- 
quelin, who  did  not  heed  Birotteau.  "  Every  oil  is 
good  to  preserve  the  bulb  from  impressions  injurious 
to  the  substances  that  it  holds  in  working,  we  might 
say  in  solution  if  it  was  a  question  of  chemistry. 
Perhaps  you  are  right:  hazel-nut  oil  contains  a 
stimulant,  Dupuytren  has  told  me.  I  will  try  to  find 
out  the  differences  that  exist  between  beech,  colza, 
olive,  nut,  and  other  oils." 

"  I  have  not  been  deceived,  then,"  said  Birotteau, 
triumphantly,  "  1  have  come  in  contact  with  a  great 
man.     Macassar   is   done   for!    Macassar,   sir,  is  a 


152  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

cosmetic  given,  that  is,  sold,  and  sold  at  a  high  price, 
to  make  the  hair  grow." 

"  Dear  Monsieur  Birotteau,"  said  Vauquelin,  "not 
two  ounces  of  Macassar  oil  have  come  to  Europe. 
Macassar  oil  has  not  the  slightest  action  on  the  hair; 
but  the  Malay  women  buy  it  at  its  weight  in  gold 
because  of  its  preserving  influence  on  the  hair,  not 
knowing  that  whale  oil  is  quite  as  good.  No  power, 
either  chemical  or  divine — " 

"Oh!  divine, — don't  say  that.  Monsieur  Vau- 
quelin." 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,  the  first  law  that  God  follows 
is  to  be  consistent  with  Himself:  without  unity  there 
is  no  power — " 

"Ah!  looked  at  in  that  way — " 

"No  power  can,  then,  make  hair  grow  on  the 
bald,  just  as  you  never  dye  red  or  white  hair  with- 
out danger;  but  in  boasting  of  the  use  of  oil  you 
are  guilty  of  no  fault,  no  lie,  and  I  think  that  those 
who  make  use  of  it  may  preserve  their  hair." 

"Do  you  think  the  Royal  Academy  of  Science 
would  approve — ?" 

"Oh!  there  is  not  the  least  discovery  in  that," 
said  Vauquelin.  "  Moreover,  quacks  have  so  much 
abused  the  Academy's  name  that  it  would  no  longer 
advance  your  interests.  My  conscience  refuses  to 
regard  hazel-nut  oil  as  a  wonder." 

"  What  would  be  the  best  method  of  extracting 
it:  by  decoction  or  by  pressure?"  Birotteau  asked. 

"  By  pressure  between  two  warm  plates  the  oil 
will  be  more  abundant;  but,  obtained  by  pressure 


IN  HIS  GLORY  1 53 

between  two  cold  plates,  it  will  be  of  better  quality. 
It  must  be  applied,"  said  Vauquelin,  kindly,  "on 
the  skin  itself,  and  not  rubbed  into  the  hair;  other- 
wise the  effect  will  fail." 

"  Keep  good  hold  of  this,  Popinot,"  said  Birotteau, 
with  an  enthusiasm  that  lit  up  his  countenance. 
"You  see  here,  sir,  a  young  man  who  will  count 
this  day  among  the  happiest  of  his  life.  He  has 
known  of  you,  venerated  you,  without  having  seen 
you.  Ah!  there  is  question  of  you  often  at  my 
house,  the  name  that  is  always  in  the  heart  comes 
often  to  the  lips.  We  pray  for  you,  my  wife,  my 
daughter  and  1  every  day,  as  one  ought  to  do  for  a 
benefactor." 

"It  is  a  great  deal  for  so  little,"  said  Vauquelin, 
embarrassed  by  the  perfumer's  verbose  grati- 
tude. 

"Tut,  tut,  tut!"  put  in  Birotteau,  "you  cannot 
prevent  us  from  loving  you,  you  who  accept  nothing 
from  me.  You  are,  as  it  were,  the  sun,  you  shed 
light,  and  those  whom  you  enlighten  cannot  give 
you  anything  in  return." 

The  learned  man  smiled  and  arose,  the  perfumer 
and  Popinot  arose  also. 

"  Look,  Anselme,  look  well  at  this  office.  You 
permit,  sir?  Your  moments  are  so  valuable,  perhaps 
he  will  never  again  return  to  this  place." 

"Very  well;  are  you  satisfied  with  business?" 
Vauquelin  asked  of  Birotteau;  "for,  indeed,  we  are 
both  of  us  people  of  trade — " 

"Fairly  well,  sir,"  said   Birotteau,  as  he  retired 


154  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

toward  the  dining-room,  whither  Vauquelin  followed 
him.  "  But  to  start  this  oil  under  the  name  of  Cotna- 
genous  Essence  will  require  a  very  large  capital — " 

"Essence  and  comagenous  are  two  loud  words. 
Call  your  cosmetic  Birotteaii  Oil.  If  you  do  not  want 
to  display  your  own  name,  take  some  other  instead 
of  it, — But  look  at  the  Dresden  Virgin — Ah!  Mon- 
sieur Birotteau,  you  want  us  to  part  on  bad  terms." 

"  Monsieur  Vauquelin,"  said  the  perfumer,  taking 
hold  of  the  chemist's  hands,  "  this  rarity  derives  its 
only  value  from  the  persistence  with  which  I  hunted 
it  up;  it  was  necessary  to  rummage  all  through 
Germany  to  find  it  on  China  paper — a  proof  before 
letters:  I  knew  that  you  desired  it,  but  that  your 
occupations  did  not  allow  you  to  procure  it  yourself, 
I  have  made  myself  your  commercial  traveler. 
Accept,  then,  not  a  paltry  engraving,  but  care, 
solicitude,  steps  and  strides  that  prove  an  absolute 
devotedness.  I  would  have  desired  you  to  wish 
for  some  substances  that  it  would  be  necessary  to 
seek  at  the  base  of  a  precipice,  and  to  have 
said  to  you:  '  There  they  are!'  Do  not  refuse  me. 
We  have  so  much  chance  of  being  forgotten,  let  me, 
for  myself,  my  wife,  my  daughter  and  my  son-in- 
law  that  may  be,  bring  ourselves  before  your  eyes. 
You  will  say  when  looking  at  the  Virgin :  '  There 
are  good  people  who  think  of  me.'  " 

"  I  accept,"  said  Vauquelin. 

Popinot  and  Birotteau  wiped  their  eyes,  so  moved 
were  they  by  the  tone  of  kindness  with  which  the 
academician  spoke  these  words. 


IN  HIS  GLORY  155 

"Do  you  wish  to  crown  your  kindness?"  the 
perfumer  asked. 

"What  is  it?"  rejoined  Vauqueiin. 

"  I  will  have  some  friends — " 

He  supported  himself  on  his  heels,  assuming,  how- 
ever, an  air  of  humility. 

" — as  much  to  celebrate  the  deliverance  of  the 
territory  as  to  have  a  feast  in  honor  of  my  being 
appointed  a  member  of  the  Order  of  the  Legion  of 
Honor." 

"  Ah!"  said  Vauqueiin,  astonished. 

"Perhaps  I  have  made  myself  worthy  of  this 
signal  and  royal  favor  by  sitting  in  the  consular 
court  and  fighting  for  the  Bourbons  on  the  steps  of 
Saint-Roch,  on  the  thirteenth  Vendemiaire,  when  I 
was  wounded  by  Napoleon. — My  wife  gives  a  ball 
on  Sunday  three  weeks  hence,  come  to  it,  sir!  Do 
me  the  honor  of  dining  with  us  that  day.  As  for 
myself,  it  will  be  equivalent  to  my  receiving  the 
Cross  twice.  I  will  write  to  you  in  good  time  before- 
hand." 

"Very  well,  yes,"  said  Vauqueiin. 

"My  heart  swells  with  pleasure,"  exclaimed  the 
perfumer  after  reaching  the  street.  "  He  will  come 
to  my  house.  I  am  afraid  I  have  forgotten  what  he 
said  about  hair;  do  you  remember  it,  Popinot?" 

"Yes,  sir,  and  in  twenty  years  I  will  still  remem- 
ber it." 

"  That  great  man!  what  a  look  and  what  penetra- 
tion!" said  Birotteau.  "Ah!  he  didn't  make  two 
bites  of  a  cherry;  at  the  first  glance  he  saw  into  our 


156  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

thoughts  and  gave  us  the  means  of  sinking  Macas- 
sar oil.  Ah!  nothing  can  make  the  hair  grow, 
Macassar,  you  lie!  Popinot,  we  have  a  fortune.  And 
so  to-morrow,  at  seven  o'clock,  let  us  be  at  the 
factory,  the  hazel-nuts  will  come  and  we  will  make 
oil,  for  it  is  all  very  fine  for  him  to  say  that  every 
oil  is  good,  we  would  be  ruined  if  the  public  knew  it. 
If  there  did  not  enter  into  our  oil  a  little  hazel-nut 
and  perfume,  under  what  pretext  could  we  sell  it  at 
three  or  four  francs  for  four  ounces?" 

"  You  are  going  to  be  decorated,  sir,"  said  Popinot. 
"What  glory  for—" 

"  For  trade,  is  it  not,  my  boy?" 

Cesar  Birotteau's  triumphant  air,  sure  of  a  for- 
tune, was  remarked  by  his  clerks,  who  made  signs 
to  one  another,  for  the  ride  in  the  hack,  the  get-up 
of  the  cashier  and  his  employer  had  led  them  into 
the  most  extravagant  speculations.  The  mutual 
satisfaction  of  Cesar  and  Anselme,  betrayed  by 
diplomatically  exchanged  looks,  the  glance  expressive 
of  hope  that  Popinot  cast  twice  at  Cesarine  told  of 
some  serious  event  and  confirmed  the  clerks'  con- 
jectures. In  that  busy  and  quasi-claustral  life  the 
most  trifling  happenings  take  on  the  interest  that  a 
prisoner  gives  to  those  of  his  prison.  The  attitude 
of  Madame  Cesar,  who  answered  her  husband's 
Olympian  looks  with  indications  of  doubt,  told  of  a 
new  enterprise,  for  on  ordinary  occasions  Madame 
Cesar  would  have  been  satisfied,  she  whom  the 
success  of  the  retail  trade  made  joyful.  It  was 
extraordinary  that  the  receipts  on  that  day  amounted 


IN   HIS   GLORY  I  57 

to  six  thousand  francs:  people  had  come  to  pay 
some  bills  in  arrears. 

The  dining-room  and  the  kitchen  lighted  from  a 
small  court,  and  separated  from  the  dining-room  by 
a  passage  on  which  opened  the  stairway  built  in  a 
corner  of  the  room  back  of  the  shop,  were  in  the 
entresol,  where  formerly  were  the  living  rooms  of 
Cesar  and  Constance:  the  dining-room  where  the 
honeymoon  had  been  spent  also  had  the  appearance 
of  a  little  parlor.  During  dinner  Raguet,  the  emer- 
gency boy,  watched  the  shop;  but  at  dessert  the 
clerks  went  down  again  to  the  shop  and  left  Cesar, 
his  wife  and  daughter  to  finish  their  dinner  by  the 
fireside.  This  custom  came  from  the  Ragons,  with 
whom  the  ancient  usages  and  customs  of  trade, 
always  in  force,  kept  between  them  and  the  clerks 
the  enormous  distance  that  formerly  separated  mas- 
ters and  apprentices.  Cesarine  or  Constance  then 
prepared  for  the  perfumer  his  cup  of  coffee,  which 
he  took  seated  in  a  chair  near  the  hearth.  During 
this  hour  Cesar  informed  his  wife  of  the  small  hap- 
penings of  the  day,  he  related  what  he  had  seen  in 
Paris,  what  was  going  on  in  the  Faubourg  du  Temple, 
and  the  difficulties  of  his  factory. 

"  Wife,"  he  said  when  the  clerks  had  gone  down, 
"this  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  important  days 
of  our  life!  The  hazel-nuts  bought,  the  press 
ready  to  work  to-morrow,  the  land  business  con- 
cluded. Here,  hold  fast,  then,  to  this  order  on  the 
Bank, "he  said,  giving  her  Pillerault's  check.  "The 
renovation  of  the  tenement  decided  upon,  the  addition 


158  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

made  to  it.  Good  Heavens!  what  a  very  singular  man 
1  have  seen  in  the  Cour  Batave!" 

And  he  told  about  Monsieur  Molineux. 

"I  see,"  his  wife  replied,  interrupting  him  in  the 
middle  of  a  tirade,  "that  you  have  run  yourself 
in  debt  to  the  amount  of  two  hundred  thousand 
francs!" 

"True,  wife,"  said  the  perfumer  with  mock 
humility,  "  How,  for  goodness'  sake,  shall  we  pay 
that?  For  we  must  count  as  nothing  the  Madeleine 
land,  destined  though  it  be  to  become  one  day  the 
most  beautiful  section  of  Paris." 

"One  day,  Cesar." 

"  Alas!"  he  said,  continuing  his  pleasantry,  "  my 
three-eighths  will  be  worth  a  million  to  me  only  in  six 
years.  And  how  am  I  to  pay  two  hundred  thousand 
francs?"  continued  Cesar,  making  a  gesture  of  fear. 
"  Well,  we  will,  however,  pay  it  with  that,"  he  said, 
as  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  hazel-nut  that  he  had 
picked  up  while  visiting  Madame  Madou,  and  kept 
most  carefully. 

He  showed  the  nut  between  his  two  fingers  to 
Cesarine  and  Constance.  His  wife  said  nothing, 
but  Cesarine,  in  perplexity,  said  to  her  father  while 
serving  him  with  the  coffee: 

"Ah,  there!  papa,  you  are  laughing?" 

The  perfumer,  as  well  as  his  clerks,  had  caught 
during  the  dinner  the  glances  cast  by  Popinot  at 
Cesarine,  and  he  wanted  some  light  thrown  on  his 
suspicions. 

"  Well,  daughter  mine,  this  nut  is  the  cause  of  a 


IN  HIS  GLORY  159 

revolution  in  the  household.  After  this  evening 
there  will  be  someone  less  under  our  roof," 

Cesarine  looked  at  her  father  with  the  air  of 
wishing  to  say:  "  What  does  it  matter  to  me!" 

"  Popinot  is  going  away." 

Though  Cesar  was  a  poor  observer  and  had  pre- 
pared his  last  phrase  as  much  to  place  a  stumbling- 
block  in  his  daughter's  way  as  to  reach  his 
organizing  of  the  house  of  A.  Popinot  and  Company, 
his  paternal  tenderness  enabled  him  to  see  into  the 
confused  feelings  that  spread  from  his  daughter's 
heart,  bloomed  as  red  roses  on  her  cheeks  and  on 
her  brow,  and  colored  her  eyes,  which  she  lowered. 
Cesar  then  thought  that  some  words  had  been 
exchanged  between  Cesarine  and  Popinot.  There 
had  been  nothing  of  the  sort.  These  two  young 
people  understood  each  other,  like  all  timid  lovers, 
without  having  exchanged  a  word. 


Some  moralists  think  that  love  is  the  most  invol- 
untary, the  most  disinterested,  the  least  calculating 
of  all  the  passions,  except  however,  maternal 
affection.  This  opinion  involves  a  gross  error.  If 
most  men  are  ignorant  of  the  reasons  that  lead  to 
love,  every  physical  or  moral  sympathy  is  none 
the  less  based  on  calculations  made  by  the  mind, 
sentiment  or  brutality.  Love  is  a  purely  egotistic 
passion.  Who  speaks  of  egoism  speaks  of  a  profound 
calculation.  Thus,  to  every  mind  affected  only  by 
results,  it  may  seem  at  first  glance  improbable  or  sin- 
gular to  see  a  pretty  girl  like  Cesarine  taken  with  a 
poor  lame  and  red-haired  youth.  Nevertheless,  this 
phenomenon  is  in  harmony  with  the  arithmetic  of 
the  feelings  of  the  middle-classes.  To  explain  it 
will  be  to  take  account  of  marriages  always  regarded 
with  constant  surprise  and  that  take  place  between 
tall,  beautiful  women  and  small  men,  between  small, 
ugly  creatures  and  handsome  youths.  Every  man 
afflicted  with  a  defect  in  any  form,  club-feet,  limp- 
ing, humped  back,  excessive  ugliness,  wine  stains 
scattered  on  the  cheek,  vine  leaves,  the  Roguin  in- 
firmity and  other  monstrosities  independent  of  the 
subject's  will,  has  only  two  parts  to  choose  between: 
either  to  make  one's  self  dreaded  or  to  acquire  exqui- 
site goodness;  it  is  not  allowable  to  him  to  fluctuate 
between  the  middle  terms  habitual  to  most  men. 
II  (i6i) 


l62  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

In  the  former  case  there  is  talent,  genius  or  strength: 
a  man  inspires  terror  only  by  the  power  of  evil, 
respect  only  by  genius,  fear  only  by  great  strength 
of  mind.  In  the  second  case  he  makes  himself 
adored,  he  lends  himself  admirably  to  the  feminine 
tyrannies,  and  knows  better  how  to  love  than  do 
people  of  irreproachable  corpulency.  Brought  up 
by  virtuous  folk,  by  the  Ragons,  models  of  the  most 
honorable  section  of  the  middle-class,  and  by  his 
uncle.  Judge  Popinot,  Anselme  had  been  led,  both 
by  his  candor  and  by  his  religious  feelings,  to  redeem 
his  slight  physical  defect  with  the  perfection  of  his 
character.  Struck  by  this  tendency  which  makes 
youth  so  attractive,  Constance  and  Cesar  had  often 
praised  Anselme  in  Cesarine's  presence.  Narrow 
in  other  respects,  those  two  shopkeepers  were  great 
of  soul  and  well  understood  the  things  of  the  heart. 
These  praises  awake  an  echo  in  a  young  girl  who, 
despite  her  innocence,  read  in  Anselme's  eyes,  pure 
as  they  were,  a  violent  passion,  ever  flattering, 
whatever  be  the  age,  rank  and  form  of  the  lover. 
Little  Popinot  must  have  many  more  reasons  than 
a  handsome  man  for  loving  a  woman.  If  the  woman 
was  pretty  he  would  be  madly  in  love  on  that  account 
until  his  dying  day,  his  love  would  give  him  am- 
bition, he  would  work  himself  to  death  to  make 
his  wife  happy,  he  would  leave  her  mistress  of 
the  home,  he  would  go  anticipate  domination. 
So  thought  Cesarine  involuntarily  and  not  so  in- 
considerately perhaps;  she  saw  with  a  bird's-eye 
view  into  the   harvests  of  love  and  reasoned  by 


IN   HIS   GLORY  163 

comparison:  her  mother's  happiness  was  present 
to  her  mind,  she  desired  no  other  life;  her  instinct 
showed  her  in  Anselme  another  Cesar,  perfected 
by  education  as  she  had  been  by  hers.  She  dreamt 
of  Popinot  as  mayor  of  arrondissement,  and  was 
pleased  to  picture  herself  as  one  day  taking  up 
collections  in  her  parish  like  her  mother  at  Saint- 
Roch.  She  came  at  last  to  ignoring  the  difference 
that  distinguished  Popinot's  left  foot  from  his  right, 
she  would  be  able  to  say:  "But  does  he  limp?" 
She  loved  that  eye-ball  so  limpid,  and  had  been 
pleased  to  see  the  effect  produced  by  her  look  on 
those  eyes  that  shone  at  once  with  a  modest  fire 
and  drooped  in  melancholy  mood.  Roguin's  chief 
clerk,  Alexandre  Crottat,  gifted  with  that  precocious 
experience  due  to  attention  to  business,  had  a  bear- 
ing half  cynical,  half  good-natured,  which  disgusted 
Cesarine,  already  tired  of  the  commonplaces  of  his 
conversation.  Popinot's  silence  betrayed  a  mild 
disposition,  she  loved  the  half-melancholy  smile  with 
which  he  noticed  insignificant  vulgarities;  the  foolish 
things  that  made  him  smile  always  excited  some 
aversion  in  her,  they  smiled  or  were  sad  together. 
This  superiority  did  not  keep  Anselme  from  launching 
into  his  work,  and  his  indefatigable  ardor  pleased 
Cesarine,  for  she  surmised  that,  if  the  other  clerks 
said: 

"Cesarine  will  marry  Monsieur  Roguin's  chief 
clerk,"  poor  Anselme,  lame  and  red-headed,  would 
not  despair  of  winning  her  hand.  Great  hope  proves 
great  love. 


l64  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

"  Where  is  he  going?"  Cesarine  asked  her  father, 
trying  to  assume  an  air  of  indifference. 

"  He  is  setting  up  in  the  Rue  des  Cinq-Diamants! 
and,  faith,  with  the  grace  of  God,"  said  Birotteau, 
whose  exclamation  was  understood  neither  by  his 
wife  nor  by  his  daughter. 

When  Birotteau  met  with  a  moral  difficulty,  he 
did  as  do  insects  before  an  obstacle,  he  threw  him- 
self to  left  or  to  right;  he  accordingly  changed  the 
conversation,  saying  he  wanted  to  chat  with  his  wife 
about  Cesarine. 

"  I  have  told  your  uncle  of  your  fears  and  ideas 
about  Roguin,  and  he  set  to  laughing,"  said  he  to 
Constance. 

"  You  should  never  reveal  what  we  say  among  our- 
selves," Constance  exclaimed.  "This  poor  Roguin 
is  perhaps  the  most  honest  of  men,  he  is  fifty-eight 
years  old  and  no  doubt  no  longer  thinks — " 

She  stopped  short  on  seeing  that  Cesarine  was 
paying  attention,  and  by  a  glance  directed  Cesar's 
look  toward  her. 

**  I  have  done  well,  then,  to  close  the  matter," 
said  Birotteau. 

"  But  you  are  master,"  she  replied 

Cesar  took  his  wife's  hands  in  his  own  and  kissed 
her  forehead.  This  answer  was  always  with  her  a 
tacit  consent  to  her  husband's  plans. 

"Well,"  exclaimed  the  perfumer,  as  he  went 
down  to  his  shop  and  spoke  to  his  clerks,  "the 
shop  will  be  closed  at  ten  o'clock.  Gentlemen,  a 
bold  stroke.     It  is  a  matter  of  transferring  all  the 


IN   HIS   GLORY  165 

furniture  of  the  second  floor  to  the  third  during  the 
night!  We  must,  as  people  say,  put  all  the  small 
vessels  in  the  big  ones,  so  as  to  leave  elbow  room 
for  my  architect  to-morrow. — Popinot  has  gone  out 
without  permission,"  said  Cesar,  not  seeing  him. 
"Oh!  he  does  not  sleep  here,  I  forgot. — He  has 
gone,  I  suppose,  either  to  put  Monsieur  Vauquelm's 
ideas  in  order  or  to  rent  a  shop." 

"  We  know  the  cause  of  this  moving,"  said 
Celestin,  speaking  in  the  name  of  the  other  two 
clerks  and  of  Raguet,  who  were  gathered  behind 
him.  "May  we  be  allowed  to  congratulate 
Monsieur  on  an  honor  which  reflects  on  the  whole 
shop? — Popinot  has  told  us  that  Monsieur — " 

"Well,  boys,  what  do  you  think!  they  have 
decorated  me.  And  so,  not  only  because  of  the 
liberation  of  the  territory,  but  also  to  have  a  feast 
in  honor  of  my  promotion  to  the  Legion  of  Honor, 
we  are  going  to  have  a  gathering  of  our  friends.  I 
have  perhaps  made  myself  worthy  of  this  dis- 
tinguished and  royal  favor  by  sitting  in  the  consular 
court  and  by  fighting  for  the  royal  cause  which  1 
defended — ,  at  your  age,  on  the  steps  of  Saint-Roch 
on  the  thirteenth  Vendemiaire;  and,  faith.  Napoleon, 
styled  the  Emperor,  wounded  me!  I  still  carry  the 
scar  on  my  thigh,  and  Madame  Ragon  nursed  me. 
Have  courage,  you  will  be  rewarded!  See,  my  boys, 
how  a  mishap  ever  has  its  compensation." 

"  There  will  be  no  more  fighting  in  the  streets," 
said  Celestin. 

"Let  us  hope  so,"  said  Cesar,  who  changed  the 


l66  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

subject  to  give  his  clerks  a  lecture  which  he  ended 
with  an  invitation. 

The  prospect  of  a  bail  enlivened  the  three  clerks, 
Raguet  and  Virginia,  so  as  to  make  them  as  dexterous 
as  rope-dancers.  All  passed  up  and  down  the  stairs 
loaded  without  breaking  or  upsetting  anything.  At 
two  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  moving  was  com- 
pleted. Cesar  and  his  wife  slept  on  the  third  floor. 
Popinot's  room  became  Celestin's  and  the  second 
clerk's.  The  fourth  floor  was  a  provisional  store- 
room for  the  furniture. 

Possessed  of  that  splendid  ardor  which  is  the  pro- 
duct of  affluence  of  the  nervous  fluid  and  which 
turns  the  diaphragm  into  a  brazier  in  ambitious  folk 
or  those  in  love  who  are  taken  up  with  great 
schemes,  Popinot,  so  mild  and  quiet,  had  pranced 
like  a  race  horse  before  starting,  in  the  shop,  after 
leaving  the  table. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you  now?"  Celestin 
asked  him. 

"  What  a  day!  my  dear  fellow,  I  am  setting  up  for 
myself,"  he  whispered  in  his  ear,  "and  Monsieur 
Cesar  is  decorated." 

"You  are  very  fortunate,  the  master  is  helping 
you,"  exclaimed  Celestin. 

Popinot  did  not  answer,  but  disappeared  as  if 
driven  by  a  furious  gale,  the  hurricane  of  success. 

"Oh!  what  good  luck!"  was  the  remark  of  a 
clerk  engaged  in  packing  gloves  by  the  dozen,  to 
his  neighbor,  who  was  verifying  labels;  "  the  master 
saw  the  sheep's-eyes  that  Popinot  was  making  at 


IN  HIS  GLORY  167 

Cesarine,  and  as  he  is  very  shrewd,  is  this  master,  he 
got  rid  of  Anselme;  it  would  be  hard  to  refuse  him, 
seeing  who  his  relations  are.  Celestin  takes  this 
trick  for  generosity." 

Anselme  Popinot  went  down  the  Rue  Saint- 
Honore  and  ran  along  the  Rue  des  Deux-Ecus,  to 
secure  a  young  man  whom  his  commercial  second  sight 
had  suggested  to  him  as  the  chief  instrument  of  his 
fortune.  Judge  Popinot  had  done  a  service  to  the 
most  capable  commercial  traveler  in  Paris,  to  him 
whose  triumphant  loquacity  and  activity  gained  for 
him  later  on  the  surname  lUiistrioiis.  Specially  con- 
cerned with  the  hat  trade  and  the  article  Paris,  this 
king  of  traveling  salesmen  was  as  yet  known  purely 
and  simply  as  Gaudissart.  When  only  twenty-two 
he  had  already  distinguished  himself  by  the  power 
of  his  commercial  magnetism.  Then  spare,  bright- 
eyed,  of  expressive  countenance,  indefatigable 
memory,  able  at  a  glance  to  take  in  every  one's 
tastes,  he  deserved  to  be  what  he  has  been  since, 
the  king  of  commercial  travelers,  the  Frenchman 
preeminently.  Some  days  previously  Popinot  had 
met  Gaudissart,  who  had  said  he  was  about  to  leave 
town:  the  hope  of  still  finding  him  in  Paris  had  just 
sent  the  lover  into  the  Rue  des  Deux-Ecus,  where  he 
learned  that  the  traveler  had  kept  his  place,  at  the 
conveyance  office.  By  way  of  bidding  farewell  to 
his  dear  capital,  Gaudissart  had  gone  to  see  a  new 
piece  at  the  Vaudeville:  Popinot  resolved  to  wait  for 
him.  To  entrust  the  placing  of  the  hazel-nut  oil  to 
this  valuable  circulator  of  inventions  in  trade,  already 


1 68 


CESAR  BIROTTEAU 


eagerly  desired  by  the  richest  houses,  was  it  not  to 
draw  a  bill  of  exchange  on  fortune?  Popinot  had 
Gaudissart.  The  traveling  agent,  so  skilled  in  the 
art  of  getting  around  the  most  stubborn  people,  the 
small  provincial  dealers,  had  allowed  himself  to  be 
wheedled  into  the  first  conspiracy  against  the  Bour- 
bons after  the  Hundred-Days.  Gaudissart,  to  whom 
an  open-air  life  was  indispensable,  saw  himself  in 
prison  under  the  load  of  a  capital  charge.  Judge 
Popinot,  assigned  to  pass  on  the  indictment,  had  let 
Gaudissart  go  free,  finding  that  his  foolish  imprudence 
alone  had  compromised  him  in  this  affair.  With  a 
judge  desirous  of  pleasing  the  powers  that  be,  or  of 
exalted  royalism,  the  unfortunate  agent  would  have 
gone  to  the  scaffold.  Gaudissart,  who  thought  he 
owed  his  life  to  the  Committing  Judge,  was  in  deep 
despair  at  being  able  to  show  his  savior  but  barren 
gratitude.  It  being  out  of  order  to  thank  a  judge  for 
having  done  justice,  he  had  gone  to  the  Ragons  to 
declare  himself  a  vassal  of  the  Popinots.  While 
waiting,  Popinot  naturally  went  to  take  another  look 
at  his  shop  in  the  Rue  des  Cinq-Diamants,  to  find 
out  the  owner's  address,  so  that  he  could  treat  with 
him  about  the  lease.  While  wandering  in  the  dark 
labyrinth  of  the  great  Market,  thinking  of  the  means 
of  organizing  a  speedy  success,  Popinot  seized,  in  the 
Rue  Aubry-le-Boucher,  a  unique  opportunity  of 
good  augury  with  which  he  counted  on  regaling 
Cesar  on  the  morrow.  While  on  guard  at  the  door 
of  the  Hotel  Commerce,  at  the  end  of  the  Rue  des 
Deux-Ecus,  about  midnight,  Popinot  heard,  as  far 


IN  HIS  GLORY  169 

away  as  the  Rue  de  Crenelle,  a  farewell  ballad  sung 
by  Gaudissart,  to  the  accompaniment  of  his  cane 
significantly  dragged  along  the  pavement. 

'•Sir,"  said  Anselme,  leaving  the  door  and  sud- 
denly showing  himself,  "  a  word  or  two  with  you?" 

"A  dozen,  if  you  wish,"  said  the  commercial 
traveler,  raising  his  lead-loaded  cane  in  defence 
against  the  aggressor. 

"  1  am  Popinot,"  said  poor  Anselme. 

"Quite  right,"  said  Gaudissart,  recognizing  him. 
"What  is  it  you  wish?  money?  Absent  on  leave, 
but  we  will  find  out.  My  arm  for  a  duel?  Every- 
thing is  yours,  from  the  soles  of  my  feet  to  the 
crown  of  my  head." 

And  he  sung: 

There,  there's 
The  true  French  soldier  bold  ! 

"  Come  and  talk  with  me  for  ten  minutes,  not  in 
your  room,  some  one  might  hear  us,  but  on  the 
Quai  de  I'Horloge:  at  this  hour  there's  no  one 
there,"  said  Popinot;  "  it  is  a  question  of  something 
most  important." 

"  To  warm  us  up?     Let  us  be  off." 

"  In  ten  minutes  Gaudissart,  master  of  Popinot's 
secrets,  had  realized  their  importance. 

"  Perfumers,  hair-dressers  and  retailers,  show 
yourselves,"  exclaimed  Gaudissart,  mimicking  Lafon 
in  the  role  of  the  Cid.  "  I  am  going  to  inveigle  all 
the  shopkeepers  of  France  and  Navarre.  Oh!  an 
idea!  I  was  going  to  leave  town,  but  I  will  stay  and 


I70  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

take  the  orders  of  the  whole  perfumery  trade  of 
Paris." 

"And  why?" 

"To  down  your  rivals,  you  simpleton!  When  I 
am  taking  their  orders  I  can  make  their  dastardly 
cosmetics  drink  oil,  by  speaking  and  being  con- 
cerned only  with  yours.  What  a  famous  traveler's 
trick!  Ha!  ha!  we  are  the  diplomats  of  trade. 
Famous!  And  as  for  your  prospectus,  I  will  take 
charge  of  that.  I  have  had  as  a  friend  since 
childhood  Andoche  Finot,  son  of  the  hatter  in  the 
Rue  du  Coq,  the  old  man  who  put  me  on  the  road 
in  the  hat  trade;  Andoche,  who  has  considerable 
talent,  for  he  took  that  of  all  the  heads  covered 
by  his  father,  is  a  literary  man,  and  does  all  the 
minor  theatrical  work  for  the  Coiirrier  des  Spectacles. 
His  father,  an  old  dog  full  of  reasons  for  not 
liking  talent,  does  not  believe  in  it:  impossible  to 
prove  to  him  that  talent  is  sold,  fortunes  are  made 
by  it.  In  the  matter  of  talent,  he  knows  only 
how  much  three  sixes  make.  Old  Finot  has  a  very 
poor  opinion  of  young  Finot.  Andoche,  a  capable 
man  and  my  friend  besides,  and  I  associate  with 
dolts  only  commercially,  Finot  is  engaged  on  sketches 
for  the  Fidlle  Berger,  that  pays,  while  the  newspapers 
that  give  him  the  galley-fever  feed  him  on  snakes. 
Are  they  jealous,  and  therefore  adopt  this 
course?  It  is  just  as  with  the  article  Paris.  Finot 
had  a  superb  comedy  in  one  act  for  Mademoiselle 
Mars,  the  most  famous  of  the  famous.  Ah!  there's 
one  of  them  that  I  love!     Well,  before  he  could  see 


IN  HIS  GLORY  171 

it  played,  he  was  compelled  to  take  it  to  the  Gaiete. 
Andoche  understands  the  prospectus  business;  he 
enters  into  the  dealer's  ideas,  he  is  not  proud,  he 
will  make  a  rough  draft  of  our  prospectus  gratis. 
Great  Heavens,  with  a  bowl  of  punch  and  cakes  we 
will  fix  him  up;  for,  Popinot,  no  stuffing:  I  will 
travel  without  commission  or  expenses,  your  com- 
petitors will  pay,  I  will  gobble  them  up.  Let  us 
understand  each  other  clearly.  For  my  part,  this 
success  is  a  matter  of  honor.  My  reward  is  that  I 
be  best  man  at  your  wedding!  I  will  go  to  Italy,  to 
Germany,  to  England!  I  will  take  with  me  placards  in 
all  languages,  I  will  have  them  posted  everywhere, 
in  the  villages,  at  the  church  doors,  at  every  favor- 
able place  that  1  know  of  in  the  provincial  cities!  It 
will  shine,  it  will  show  for  itself,  will  this  oil;  it  will 
be  on  everybody's  head.  Ah!  your  marriage  will 
not  be  a  sham,  but  a  swell  affair!  You  shall  have 
your  Cesarine,  or  I  will  not  becalled  the  ILLUSTRIOUS! 
a  name  that  old  man  Finot  gave  me.  for  having 
made  a  success  of  his  gray  hats.  In  selling  your 
oil  1  remain  in  my  role,  the  human  head;  the  oil  and 
thehatare  known  as  preservatives  of  the  public  hair." 
Popinot  returned  to  his  aunt's,  where  he  was  to 
sleep,  in  such  a  fever,  caused  by  his  prospect  of 
success,  that  the  streets  seemed  to  him  to  be  streams 
of  oil.  He  slept  little,  dreamt  that  his  hair  was 
growing  in  fantastic  fashion,  and  saw  two  angels 
that  unrolled  before  his  eyes,  as  in  a  melodrama,  a 
rubric  on  which  was  written:  Cesarienne  Oil.  He 
awoke,  remembering  this  dream,  and  resolved  to  so 


172  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

call  his  hazel-nut  oil,  regarding  this  dream-fancy  as 
an  order  from  Heaven. 

Cesar  and  Popinot  were  in  their  workshop,  in  the 
Faubourg  du  Temple,  long  before  the  arrival  of  the 
hazel-nuts;  while  waiting  for  Madame  Madou's 
haulers  Popinot  triumphantly  related  his  treaty  of 
alliance  with  Gaudissart. 

"We  have  the  illustrious  Gaudissart,  we  are 
millionaires!"  exclaimed  the  perfumer,  extending 
his  hand  to  his  cashier  with  such  an  air  as  might 
have  been  assumed  by  Louis  XIV.  receiving  the 
Marechal  de  Villars  on  his  return  from  Denain. 

"We  have  something  else  besides,"  said  the 
happy  clerk,  taking  from  his  pocket  a  bottle  crushed 
after  the  manner  of  a  pumpkin  and  fiat-shaped;  "  I 
have  found  ten  thousand  flasks  like  this  sample, 
already  made,  prepared  for  use,  at  four  sous  and  on 
six  months'  time." 

"Anselme,"  said  Birotteau,  contemplating  the 
flask's  wonderful  shape,  "Yesterday  " — he  assumed 
a  grave  tone — "  in  the  Tuileries,  yes,  no  longer  ago 
than  yesterday,  you  said:  *  I  will  succeed.'  As  for 
me,  I  say  to-day:  'You  will  succeed!'  Four  sous! 
six  months'  time;  an  original  form!  Macassar  is 
trembling  in  its  boots.  What  a  blow  aimed  at 
Macassar  oil!  Haven't  I  done  well  to  get  all  the 
hazel-nuts  to  be  had  in  Paris!  Where,  then,  did 
you  find  these  flasks?" 

"  I  was  waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  speak  to 
Gaudissart  and  I  was  sauntering — " 

"  Like  me  of  old,"  exclaimed  Birotteau. 


IN  HIS  GLORY  173 

"On  my  way  down  the  Rue  Aubry-Ie-Boucher  I 
saw  in  a  wholesale  glass-ware  place,  that  of  a  dealer 
in  blown  glass  and  covers,  who  has  immense  stores, 
I  saw  this  flask. — Ah!  it  dazzled  my  eyes  like  a 
sudden  light.  A  voice  cried  out  to  me:  *  That's  what 
you're  after!'  " 

"  A  born  business  man!  He  will  have  my  daugh- 
ter," said  Cesar,  muttering. 

"  I  enter  and  I  see  thousands  of  these  flasks  in 
cases." 

"  You  at  once  asked  all  about  them?" 

"You  do  not  think  me  so  green!"  Anselme  ex- 
claimed, as  if  he  felt  hurt. 

"A  born  business  man!"  Birotteau  repeated. 

"  I  ask  for  some  glass  covers  to  put  over  little 
wax  figures  of  the  Child  Jesus.  While  bargaining 
for  the  covers,  I  find  fault  with  the  form  of  these 
flasks.  Led  on  to  a  general  confession,  my  merchant 
acknowledges  by  degrees  that  Faille  and  Bouchot, 
who  lately  failed,  were  going  to  undertake  a  cos- 
metic and  wanted  flasks  of  singular  form;  he  was 
distrustful  of  them  and  asked  half  cash;  Faille  and 
Bouchot,  hoping  to  succeed,  parted  with  the 
money;  the  failure  came  suddenly  while  the  flasks 
were  being  made;  the  assignees,  when  asked  to 
pay,  succeeded  in  compromising  with  him  by  leaving 
him  the  flasks  and  the  money  paid,  as  an  indemnity 
for  an  article  that  he  pretended  was  ridiculous  and 
could  not  possibly  find  a  market.  The  flasks  cost 
eight  sous;  he  would  be  satisfied  to  let  them  go  for 
four.     God  knows  how  long  he  would  have  to  keep 


174  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

in  storage  a  style  that  is  not  in  the  market.  '  Will 
you  undertake  to  supply  ten  thousand  at  four  sous? 
I  can  help  you  to  get  rid  of  your  flasks,  as  I  am  a 
clerk  with  Monsieur  Birotteau.'  I  broach  it  to  him, 
and  I  lead  him  on,  and  1  get  the  better  of  my  man, 
and  1  warm  him  up,  and  he  is  ours." 

"Four  sous!"  said  Birotteau.  "Do  you  know 
that  we  can  put  the  oil  at  three  francs  and  make 
thirty  sous  after  allowing  the  retailers  twenty.?" 

"  Cesarienne  Oil!"  exclaimed  Popinot. 

"  Cesariemte  Oil? — Ah!  Mr.  Lover,  you  want  to 
flatter  the  father  and  the  daughter.  Very  well,  be 
it  so;  go  for  Cesarienne  Oil!  The  Cesars  had  the 
world,  they  must  have  had  famous  hair." 

"  Cesar  was  bald,"  said  Popinot. 

"  Because  he  did  not  use  our  oil,  people  will  say! 
Cesarienne  Oil  for  three  francs;  Macassar  oil  costs 
double.  Gaudissart  is  in  it.  We  will  make  a  hundred 
thousand  francs  a  year,  for  we  will  put  on  all  heads 
that  respect  themselves  twelve  flasks  annually. 
Eighteen  francs!  Say  ten  thousand  heads,  a  hundred 
and  eighty  thousand  francs.     We  are  millionaires." 

The  hazel-nuts  delivered,  Raguet,  the  workmen, 
Popinot  and  Cesar,  picked  a  sufficient  quantity,  and 
within  four  hours  they  had  a  few  pounds  of  oil. 
Popinot  went  to  present  the  product  to  Vauquelin, 
who  made  a  present  to  Popinot  of  a  formula  for 
mixing  the  hazel-nut  essence  with  less  expensive 
oleaginous  substances  and  for  scenting  it.  Popi- 
not at  once  betook  himself  in  haste  to  obtain  a 
patent  of  invention  and  perfecting.     The  devoted 


IN  HIS  GLORY  I75 

Gaudissart  lent  money  for  the  fiscal  right  to  Popinot, 
whose  ambition  it  was  to  pay  his  half  of  the  expenses 
of  the  establishment. 

Prosperity  brings  in  its  train  a  false  enthusiasm 
that  men  of  small  ability  never  resist.  This  exalta- 
tion had  a  result  easy  to  be  foreseen.  Grindot 
came  and  showed  the  colored  sketch  of  a  delightful 
interior  view  of  the  future  tenement  adorned  with 
its  furnishings.  Birotteau  was  charmed  and  con- 
sented to  everything.  Immediately,  the  masons 
gave  the  pick-blows  that  made  the  house  and 
Constance  tremble.  His  house-painter,  Monsieur 
Lourdois,  a  very  rich  contractor,  who  pledged  him- 
self not  to  overlook  anything,  spoke  of  gildings  for 
the  parlor.     On  hearing  this,  Constance  interposed. 

"  Monsieur  Lourdois,"  she  said,  "  you  have  thirty 
thousand  francs  from  the  funds,  you  live  in  a  house 
all  by  yourself,  you  can  do  in  it  what  you  please;  but 
as  for  us — " 

"Madame,  trade  must  shine  and  not  allow  itself 
to  be  crushed  by  the  aristocracy.  See,  too.  Mon- 
sieur Birotteau  in  the  Government,  he  is  in  evi- 
dence— " 

"Yes,  but  he  is  still  a  shopkeeper,"  said  Con- 
stance, in  the  hearing  of  her  clerks  and  the  five 
persons  who  were  listening  to  her;  "  neither  I,  nor 
he,  nor  his  friends,  nor  his  enemies  will  forget  it." 

Birotteau  arose  on  tiptoe  and  fell  back  on  his 
heels  several  times,  his  hands  crossed  behind  him. 

"  My  wife  is  right,"  he  said.  "  We  will  be  modest 
in  prosperity.     Moreover,  as  long  as  a  man  is  in 


176  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

trade,  he  ought  to  be  careful  in  his  expenses, 
reserved  in  show.  The  law  makes  it  an  obliga- 
tion for  him.  He  must  not  give  himself  up  to  excessive 
expenses.  If  the  enlargement  of  my  dwelling  and 
the  decorating  of  it  go  above  the  limit,  it  would  be 
imprudent  for  me  to  exceed  it;  you,  yourself,  Lour- 
dois,  would  blame  me.  The  neighborhood  has  its 
eyes  on  me.  People  who  succeed  make  others 
jealous,  envious  of  them!  Ah!  you  will  soon  know 
that,  young  man,"  he  said  to  Grindot;  "if  they 
calumniate  us,  at  least  don't  give  them  occasion  for 
slander." 

"Neither  calumny  nor  slander  can  hurt  you," 
said  Lourdois;  "  you  are  in  a  privileged  position,  and 
you  have  such  a  great  aptitude  for  trade  that  you 
know  how  to  reason  out  what  you  undertake.  You 
are  a  sly  one." 

"True,  I  have  had  some  experience  of  business; 
you  know  why  we  have  prospered?  If  I  put  a  heavy 
forfeit  relatively  on  exactness,  it  is  because — " 

"No." 

"Well,  my  wife  and  I  are  going  to  have  some 
friends  gathered  as  much  to  celebrate  the  deliverance 
of  the  territory  as  to  have  a  feast  on  account  of  my 
promotion  to  the  Order  of  the  Legion  of  Honor." 

"  How,  what?"  said  Lourdois.  "  They  have  con- 
ferred the  Cross  on  you?" 

"  Yes;  perhaps  I  made  myself  worthy  of  this  dis- 
tinguished and  royal  favor  by  sitting  in  the  consular 
court  and  by  fighting  for  the  royal  cause  on  the 
thirteenth  Vendemiaire,  at  Saint-Roch,  where  I  was 


IN  HIS  GLORY  177 

wounded  by  Napoleon.     Come,  and  bring  your  wife 
and  your  daugliter — " 

"  Delighted  at  the  honor  that  you  deign  to  do 
me,"  said  the  Liberal  Lourdois.  "  But  you  are  a 
droll  fellow,  old  man  Birotteau;  you  want  to  be 
sure  that  I  will  not  fail  to  keep  my  word  with  you, 
and  that  is  why  you  invite  me.  Well,  1  will  take  my 
best  workmen,  and  we  will  get  up  a  hell-fire  to  dry 
the  painting;  we  have  drying  processes,  for  there 
must  be  no  dancing  in  a  damp  atmosphere  due  to  the 
plaster.  We  will  put  varnish  on  to  remove  all 
odor." 

Three  days  later  the  trade  of  the  neighborhood 
was  astir  over  the  announcement  of  the  ball  that 
Birotteau  was  preparing.  Everyone  could,  more- 
over, see  the  external  stays  made  necessary  by  the 
rapid  change  of  the  stairway,  the  square  wooden 
chutes  through  which  fell  the  rubbish  into  tumbrils 
that  were  stationed  there.  The  hurried  laborers  who 
were  working  by  torchlight,  for  there  were  day 
laborers  and  night  laborers,  made  idlers  and  the 
curious  stop  in  the  street,  and  gossip  relied  on  these 
preparations  to  tell  of  enormous  expenses. 

On  the  Sunday  fixed  for  the  closing  of  the  land 
affair  Monsieur  and  Madame  Ragon  and  Uncle 
Pillerault  came  about  four  o'clock,  after  Vespers. 
In  view  of  the  wreck,  Cesar  said,  he  could  invite  on 
that  day  only  Charles  Claparon,  Crottat  and  Roguin. 
The  notary  brought  the  Journal  des  Debuts,  in  which 
Monsieur  de  la  Billardiere  had  the  following  article 
inserted: 
12 


178  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

*'  We  learn  that  the  deliverance  of  the  territory  will  be 
enthusiastically  celebrated  throughout  the  whole  of  France; 
but  in  Paris  the  members  of  the  municipal  body  have  felt 
that  the  moment  had  come  to  give  to  the  capital  that  splendor 
which,  from  a  feeling  of  delicacy,  had  been  interrupted  during 
the  foreign  occupation.  Each  of  the  mayors  and  their 
deputies  propose  to  give  a  ball:  the  winter  promises,  then,  to 
be  a  very  brilliant  one;  this  national  movement  will  be 
observed.  Among  all  the  feasts  that  are  in  preparation,  there 
is  much  talk  of  the  ball  at  Monsieur  Birotteau's,  who  has 
been  made  a  Chevalier  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  and  is  so  well 
known  for  his  devotedness  to  the  royal  cause.  Monsieur 
Birotteau,  wounded  in  the  action  at  Saint-Roch,  on  the 
thirteenth  Vendemiaire,  and  one  of  the  most  highly  esteemed 
of  the  consular  judges,  has  doubly  merited  this  favor." 

"  How  well  people  write  nowadays,"  exclaimed 
Cesar. — "  They  speak  of  us  in  the  newspapers," 
said  he  to  Pillerault. 

"  Well,  after  that?"  replied  his  uncle,  to  whom 
the  Journal  des  Debats  was  particularly  unfriendly. 

"  This  article  will  perhaps  sell  some  Sultana  Paste 
and  Carminative  IVater,"  said  Madame  Cesar  in  an 
undertone  to  Madame  Ragon,  who  did  not  share  her 
husband's  enthusiasm. 


* 

Madame  Ragon,  a  large,  withered  and  wrinkled 
woman,  with  a  pinched  nose  and  thin  lips,  had  an 
affected  air  of  a  marchioness  of  the  old  court.  Her 
eyelids  were  spread  out  over  a  rather  large  circum- 
ference, like  those  of  old  women  who  have  felt 
sorrows.  Her  severe  and  dignified  countenance, 
though  pleasing,  impressed  one  with  respect.  She 
had  in  her,  moreover,  that  something  indescribably 
strange  which  attracts  without  exciting  a  smile,  and 
which  was  explained  by  her  dress  and  manner: 
she  wore  mittens,  she  went  out  in  all  kinds  of 
weather  with  a  cane-handled  umbrella,  like  that 
used  by  Queen  Marie-Antoinette  at  Trianon;  her 
dress,  the  favorite  color  of  which  was  that  light- 
brown  called  feuillemort,  fell  from  her  hips  in  unique 
folds,  known  only  to  the  dowagers  of  old;  she 
held  on  to  the  black  mantle  trimmed  with  black  lace 
with  large  square  meshes;  her  bonnet,  of  antique 
form,  had  trimmings  that  recalled  the  carvings  of 
the  old  open-cut  frames.  She  took  snuff  with  ex- 
quisite cleanliness  while  making  those  gestures  that 
may  be  remembered  by  the  young  folks  who  have 
had  the  happiness  of  seeing  their  grandaunts  and 
grandmothers  solemnly  place  gold  snuff-boxes 
alongside  of  them,  on  a  table,  at  the  same  time 
brushing  away  the  grains  of  snuff  that  had  fallen  on 
their  neckerchief. 

(179) 


l80  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

The  Sieur  Ragon  was  a  small  man  five  feet  high 
at  most,  of  the  figure  of  a  nut-cracker,  in  which  one 
saw  only  the  eyes,  two  sharp  cheek-bones,  a  nose 
and  a  chin;  toothless,  clipping  half  of  his  words, 
fluent  in  conversation,  gallant,  pretentious,  and 
ever  smiling  with  the  smile  that  he  put  on  to  receive 
the  fine  ladies  that  various  chances  formerly  brought 
to  his  shop-door.  Powder  outlined  on  his  cranium  a 
snowy  half-moon  well  combed,  flanked  by  two  horns 
separated  by  a  small  tuft  tied  with  a  ribbon.  He 
wore  a  blue-bottle  coat,  white  vest,  breeches  and 
stockings  of  silk,  gold-buckle  shoes,  and  black  silk 
gloves.  His  most  striking  characteristic  was  his 
habit  of  holding  his  hat  in  his  hand  when  walking 
along  the  streets.  He  had  the  air  of  a  messenger 
of  the  House  of  Peers,  of  an  usher  of  the  king's 
cabinet,  of  one  of  those  folk  who  are  placed  near 
any  power  whatever  so  as  to  be  its  reflection,  while 
remaining  insignificant. 

"Well,  Birotteau,"  he  said,  in  a  commanding 
tone,  "do  you  repent,  my  boy,  for  having  listened 
to  us  on  that  occasion?  Have  we  ever  doubted  the 
gratitude  of  our  well-beloved  sovereigns?" 

"  You  ought  to  be  very  happy,  my  dear  little 
woman,"  said  Madame  Ragon  to  Madame  Birotteau. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  replied  the  perfumer's  pretty 
wife,  ever  under  the  charm  of  that  cane-handled 
umbrella,  of  those  butterfly  bonnets,  of  the  neat- 
fitting  sleeves  and  the  big  neckerchief  a  la  Julie 
worn  by  Madame  Ragon. 

*'  Cesarine    is    charming. — Come    here,    sweet 


i 


yt 


IN  HIS  GLORY  l8l 

child,"  said  Madame  Ragon  in  her  falsetto  voice  and 
with  a  patronizing  air. 

"Shall  we  attend  to  business  before  dinner?" 
asked  Uncle  Pillerault. 

"We  are  waiting  for  Monsieur  Claparon,"  said 
Roguin.     "  1  left  him  dressing." 

"Monsieur  Roguin,"  said  Cesar,  "you  took  good 
care  to  tell  him  that  we  dine  in  a  mean  little 
entresol — " 

"He  found  it  superb  sixteen  years  ago,"  said 
Constance,  murmuring. 

— "Among  the  rubbish  and  in  the  presence 
of  workmen?" 

"  Bah!  you  are  going  to  see  a  fine  youth  who  is 
not  hard  to  please,"  said  Roguin. 

"  I  have  put  Raguet  on  duty  in  my  shop.  No  one 
enters  any  more  by  our  door;  you  must  have 
observed  that  everything  is  demolished,"  said  Cesar 
to  the  notary. 

"  Why  have  you  not  brought  your  nephew  here?" 
said  Pillerault  to  Madame  Ragon. 

"  Shall  we  see  him?"  Cesarine  asked. 

"No,  darling,"  said  Madame  Ragon.  "  Anselme 
is  working,  the  dear  boy,  fit  to  kill  himself.  That 
airless  and  sunless  street,  that  stinking  Rue  des  Cinq- 
Diamants  gives  me  the  horrors;  the  gutter  is  always 
blue,  green  or  black.  I  am  afraid  that  he  will 
perish  there.  But  when  young  folk  get  an  idea  in 
their  head!"  she  said  to  Cesarine,  showing  by  a 
gesture  that  the  word  head  meant  the  word  heart. 

"He  has  signed  his  lease,  then?"  Cesar  asked. 


1 82  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

"Yesterday,  and  before  a  notary,"  Ragon  replied. 
"  He  takes  it  for  eighteen  years,  but  they  require 
six  months'  rent  in  advance." 

"Well,  Monsieur  Ragon,  are  you  satisfied  with 
me?"  asked  the  perfumer.  "  1  have  given  him  the 
secret  of  a  discovery — at  last!" 

"We  know  you  by  heart,  Cesar,"  said  Ragon, 
taking  Cesar's  hands  and  pressing  them  with  a 
religious  friendship. 

Roguin  was  uneasy  about  Claparon's  appearance 
on  the  scene;  the  latter's  manners  and  tone  might 
frighten  virtuous  bourgeois:  he  accordingly  deemed 
it  necessary  to  prepare  their  minds  for  him. 

"You  are  going  to  see,"  said  he  to  Ragon, 
Pillerault  and  the  ladies,  "a  character  who  conceals 
his  ability  under  an  unfavorable  and  repulsive  ex- 
terior; for,  from  very  low  origin,  he  has  brought 
himself  into  prominence  by  his  ideas.  He  will,  no 
doubt,  acquire  good  manners  by  the  fact  of  having  to 
associate  with  bankers.  You  will,  perhaps,  meet  him 
on  the  boulevard  or  in  a  cafe,  tippling,  open-breasted, 
playing  billiards:  he  looks  a  tall,  ungainly  fellow. — 
Well,  no;  he  studies,  and  then  thinks  of  giving  a 
boom  to  industry  by  new  conceptions." 

"  I  understand  that,"  said  Birotteau;  "I  have 
found  my  best  ideas  while  sauntering.  Isn't  that  so, 
dear?" 

"  Claparon,"  continued  Roguin,  "  then,  at  night, 
makes  up  for  the  time  spent  in  looking  up,  in 
working  out  business  matters  during  the  day.  All 
men  of  great  talent  lead  a  queer,  inexplicable  life. 


n 


IN  HIS  GLORY  183 

Well,  in  this  unconnected  way,  and  I  can  testify  to 
it,  he  reaches  his  end:  he  has  succeeded  in  making 
all  the  owners  give  in.  They  did  not  wish  to,  they 
were  doubtful  of  something.  He  mystified  them,  he 
tired  them  out,  he  went  to  see  them  every  day,  and 
we  are,  in  consequence,  masters  of  the  property," 

A  singular  broum  !  broiun !  peculiar  to  drinkers  of 
small  doses  of  brandy  and  other  strong  liquors, 
announced  the  oddest  personage  of  this  history,  and 
the  visible  arbiter  of  Cesar's  future  destinies.  The 
perfumer  hurried  to  the  little  dark  stairway,  as  much 
to  tell  Raguet  to  shut  up  the  shop  as  to  offer 
Claparon  his  excuses  for  receiving  him  in  the  dining- 
room. 

"How  so!  Isn't  one  as  well  off  there  to  chew 
veg ,  to  figure  out  business,  I  mean.?" 

In  spite  of  Roguin's  shrewd  preparations,  Monsieur 
and  Madame  Ragon,  those  well-bred  bourgeois,  the 
observant  Pillerault,  Cesarine  and  her  mother  were 
at  first  rather  disagreeably  impressed  by  this  pre- 
tended high-flying  banker. 

When  only  about  twenty-eight  years  old  this 
former  traveling  agent  had  not  a  hair  on  his  head, 
and  wore  a  wig  frizzed  in  corkscrew  fashion.  This 
head-dress  requires  a  virgin  freshness,  a  milky  trans- 
parency, the  most  charming  feminine  graces;  it 
accordingly  brought  out  ignobly  a  blotched,  red- 
brown  visage,  florid  as  that  of  a  stage-driver,  and 
the  premature  wrinkles  of  which  expressed,  by  the 
grimaces  of  their  deep  and  plastered  folds,  a  libertine 
life,  the  ill  effects  of  which  were  still  further  attested 


1 84  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

by  the  bad  condition  of  the  teeth  and  the  black 
spots  scattered  over  a  ruddy  skin.  Claparon  had 
the  air  of  a  provincial  comedian  jaded  by  his  fa- 
tigues, who  knows  every  role,  burlesques  at  fairs, 
on  whose  cheek  the  red  no  longer  remains,  his  lips 
doughy,  his  tongue  always  lively,  even  when  he  is 
drunk,  his  look  devoid  of  modesty — in  short  com- 
promising by  his  gestures.  This  face,  inflamed 
by  the  joyous  kindling  of  punch,  belied  the  gravity 
of  business.  And  so  Claparon  required  long  mimic 
studies  before  he  succeeded  in  settling  down  to  a 
bearing  in  harmony  with  his  assumed  importance. 
Du  Tillet  had  assisted  in  making  up  Claparon's 
toilet,  as  a  stage  manager  anxious  about  his  chief 
actor's  first  appearance,  for  he  trembled  lest  the 
coarse  habits  of  that  reckless  life  would  break  out 
on  the  surface  of  the  banker. 

"Talk  as  little  as  possible,"  he  had  said  to  him. 
"Never  does  a  banker  jabber:  he  acts,  thinks, 
meditates,  listens  and  weighs.  Thus,  in  order  to 
have  all  the  airs  of  a  banker,  say  nothing,  or  else 
insignificant  things.  Suppress  the  wantonness  of 
your  eye  and  make  it  look  grave,  at  the  risk  of 
rendering  it  dull.  In  politics,  be  for  the  Govern- 
ment, and  launch  into  generalities  like  these:  The 
budget  is  heavy.  There  is  no  possible  agreement  be- 
tween the  parties.  The  Liberals  are  dangerous.  The 
Bourbons  ought  to  avoid  all  conflict.  Liberalism  is  the 
cloak  for  coalesced  interests.  The  Bourbons  are  pre- 
paring for  us  an  era  of  prosperity.  Let  us  support  them, 
if  we  do  not  love  them.    France  has  had  enough  political 


IN   HIS   GLORY  185 

experiences,  etc.  Don't  wallow  on  every  table. 
Remember  that  you  have  to  maintain  the  dignity  of 
a  millionaire.  Don't  take  your  snuff  as  an  invalid 
does;  toy  with  your  snuff  box.  Look  often  to  the 
floor  or  at  the  ceiling  before  answering,  and,  in  fine, 
assume  the  air  of  being  profound.  Especially,  get 
rid  of  your  unfortunate  habit  of  touching  every- 
thing. In  society,  a  banker  ought  to  seem  weary  of 
touch.  Ah,  that's  it!  You  sit  up  at  night.  Figures 
make  you  stupid;  you  have  to  get  together  so  many 
elements  to  launch  a  matter  of  business!  So  much 
study!  Above  all,  have  a  great  deal  unfavorable  to  say 
of  business.  Business  is  dull,  heavy,  hard,  thorny. 
Don't  get  away  from  that,  and  specify  nothing.  Do 
not  go  to  table  humming  your  Beranger  ballads,  and 
do  not  drink  too  much.  If  you  get  tipsy,  you  ruin 
your  future.  Roguin  will  watch  over  you;  you  are 
going  to  find  yourself  among  moral  folk,  virtuous 
bourgeois.  Do  not  frighten  them  by  letting  loose 
on  them  any  of  your  tap-room  principles." 

This  lecture  had  produced  on  Charles  Claparon's 
mind  an  effect  like  that  produced  on  his  person  by 
his  new  clothes.  That  gleeful,  care-free  man,  every- 
body's friend,  accustomed  to  being  carelessly  clad 
with  loose  garments,  in  which  his  body  was  no  more 
pinched  than  was  his  mind  in  his  language,  con- 
strained in  new  clothes  that  the  tailor  kept  for  him 
until  he  tried  them  on,  stiff  as  a  picket,  restless  in 
his  movements  as  his  phrases,  withdrawing  his  hand 
imprudently  stretched  out  for  a  flask  or  a  box,  just 
as  he  stopped   in   the   middle  of  a   phrase,   made 


1 86  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

himself  then  remarkable  by  an  inconsistency  that 
was  laughable  to  Pillerault's  scrutiny.  His  red 
face,  his  wanton  corkscrew  wig,  belied  his  manners, 
as  his  thoughts  were  in  conflict  with  his  sayings. 
But  the  good  bourgeois  came  to  regard  these  con- 
tinual discords  as  due  to  preoccupation. 

"  He  has  so  much  business,"  said  Roguin. 

"  Business  gives  him  little  breeding,"  said  Madame 
Ragon  to  Cesarine. 

Monsieur  Roguin  heard  the  expression  and  put  his 
finger  to  his  lips. 

"He  is  rich,  shrewd,  and  exceedingly  honest," 
he  said,  leaning  towards  Madame  Ragon. 

"  One  can  excuse  him  somewhat  in  favor  of  those 
qualities,"  said  Pillerault  to  Ragon. 

"Let  us  read  the  deeds  before  dinner,"  said 
Roguin;  "we  are  alone." 

Madame  Ragon,  Cesarine  and  Constance  left  the 
contracting  parties,  Pillerault,  Ragon,  Cesar,  Roguin 
and  Claparon,  to  listen  to  Alexandre  Crottat  reading. 

Cesar  signed,  in  favor  of  one  of  Roguin's  clients, 
a  bond  for  forty  thousand  francs,  secured  by  mort- 
gage of  the  land  and  the  factories  situated  in  the 
Faubourg  du  Temple;  he  turned  over  to  Roguin, 
Pillerault's  order  on  the  bank,  gave  without  receipt 
the  twenty  thousand  francs  in  his  portfolio  and  the 
hundred  and  forty  thousand  francs  in  notes  payable 
to  the  order  of  Claparon. 

"I  have  no  receipt  to  give  you,"  said  Claparon. 
"  You  will  deal  on  your  part  with  Monsieur  Roguin 
as  we  on  ours.     Our  sellers  receive  from  him  their 


IN   HIS  GLORY  187 

price  in  casii.  I  pledge  myself  to  nothing  but  to  find 
for  you  tiie  balance  of  your  share  in  notes  for  your 
hundred  and  forty  thousand  francs." 

"  That  is  all  right,"  said  Pillerault. 

"Very  well,  gentlemen,  let  us  call  the  ladies 
back;  for  isn't  it  cold  without  them?"  saidClaparon, 
looking  at  Roguin  as  if  to  find  out  whether  the 
pleasantry  was  not  too  strong. 

"  Ladies! — Oh!  the  young  lady  is  no  doubt  your 
daughter,"  said  Claparon,  as  he  stood  erect  and 
looked  at  Birotteau.  "Well,  you  are  not  a  bad 
hand  at  it.  None  of  the  roses  that  you  have 
distilled  can  be  compared  with  her,  and  perhaps  it  is 
because  you  have  distilled  roses  that — " 

"Faith,"  said  Roguin,  interrupting,  "I  must 
acknowledge  that  I  am  hungry." 

"  Very  well,  let  us  go  to  dinner,"  said  Birotteau. 

"We  are  going  to  dine  in  the  presence  of  a 
notary,"  said  Claparon,  bridling  up. 

"  You  do  a  great  deal  of  business?"  said  Pillerault, 
seating  himself  at  the  table  intentionally  near 
Claparon. 

"  A  very  great  deal,  by  the  wholesale,"  replied 
the  banker;  "but  it  is  dull,  thorny;  there  are  the 
canals.  Oh!  the  canals!  You  could  not  figure  out 
how  the  canals  keep  me  engaged!  and  that  is  easily 
understood.  The  Government  wants  canals.  The 
canal  is  a  necessity  that  makes  itself  generally  felt 
m  the  Departments  and  that  concerns  all  branches 
of  trade,  you  know!  Rivers,  Pascal  says,  are 
moving  highways.    Markets,  then,  are  needed.   The 


1 88  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

markets  depend  on  the  excavations,  for  there  are 
frightful  embankments,  and  the  embankment  con- 
cerns the  poorer  classes,  whence  loans,  in  a  word, 
are  given  to  the  poor!  Voltaire  said:  Canaux, 
canards,  caftaille!  But  the  Government  has  its 
engineers  who  enlighten  it:  it  is  hard  to  take  it  in, 
except  by  having  an  understanding  with  them;  for 
the  Chamber! — Oh!  sir,  the  Chamber  does  us  harm! 
It  does  not  want  to  understand  the  political  question 
hidden  behind  the  financial  question.  There  is  bad 
faith  on  both  sides.  Would  you  believe  one  thing? 
The  Kellers,  well,  Francois  Keller  is  an  orator;  he 
attacks  the  Government  in  regard  to  funds,  in 
regard  to  canals.  Having  returned  to  his  home,  my 
jolly  fellow  finds  us  with  our  propositions.  They  are 
favorable.  We  must  have  an  understanding  with  this 
said  Government,  just  a  moment  ago  insolently 
attacked.  The  orator's  interests  and  those  of  the 
banker  come  in  conflict;  we  are  between  two  fires! 
You  understand  now  how  business  becomes  thorny. 
We  have  to  please  so  many  people:  clerks,  chambers, 
ante-chambers,  ministers — " 

"Ministers?"  remarked  Pillerault,  who  was  bent 
on  seeing  through  this  co-partner. 

"Yes,  sir,  ministers." 

"  Well,  the  newspapers  are  right,  then,"  said 
Pillerault. 

"Just  see  my  uncle  in  politics,"  said  Birotteau, 
"  Monsieur  Claparon  is  pleasing  him." 

"Ever  mischievous  dogs,"  said  Claparon;  "that's 
all  these  newspapers  are!    Sir,  the  newspapers  mix 


IN  HIS  GLORY  189 

up  everything  for  us;  they  serve  us  well  sometimes, 
but  they  make  me  spend  some  restless  nights.  I 
would  prefer  to  spend  them  otherwise;  in  short,  1 
have  lost  my  sight  through  reading  and  calculating." 

"  Let  us  return  to  the  ministers,"  said  Pillerault, 
hoping  for  revelations. 

"The  ministers  have  purely  governmental  exi- 
gencies. But  what's  that  I  am  eating,  food  for  the 
gods?"  Claparon  asked,  interrupting  himself. 
"Some  of  those  sauces  that  one  eats  only  in 
bourgeois  houses;  never  in  eating-houses — " 

At  this  expression  the  flowers  on  Madame  Ragon's 
bonnet  bounded  like  rams.  Claparon  saw  that  he 
had  been  guilty  of  vulgarity,  and  wanted  to  take  it 
back. 

"In  high  banking  circles,"  he  said,  "the  head 
cooks  of  swell  saloons  are  called  hashers,  like  Very 
and  the  Freres  Provengaux.  Well,  neither  these 
disreputable  hashers  nor  our  skilled  cooks  give  us 
mellow  sauces.  The  first  give  us  clear  water  acidu- 
lated with  lemon,  the  others  practice  chemistry." 

The  whole  dinner  time  was  spent  in  attacks  on 
the  part  of  Pillerault,  who  aimed  to  sound  this  man, 
and  who  found  only  vacuum;  he  regarded  him  as  a 
dangerous  man. 

"  Everything  is  going  well,"  whispered  Roguin  in 
Charles  Claparon's  ear. 

"  Ah!  I  will  no  doubt  get  into  undress  this 
evening,"   replied  Claparon,  who  was  suffocating. 

"Sir,"  said  Birotteau  to  him,  "if  we  are  obliged 
to  make  the  salon  of  the  dining-room,  it  is  because 


1 90  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

in  eighteen  days  we  will  have  a  gathering  of  some 
friends  here,  as  much  to  celebrate  the  deliverance  of 
the  territory — " 

"  Good,  sir;  as  for  myself,  I  am  also  the  man  of 
the  Government.  I  belong,  by  my  opinions,  to  the 
statu  quo  of  the  great  man  who  directs  the  destinies 
of  the  House  of  Austria,  a  famous,  jolly  good  fellow! 
To  keep  in  order  to  acquire,  and  especially  to  acquire 
in  order  to  keep — that  is  the  sum  and  substance  of 
my  opinions,  which  have  the  honor  of  being  those  of 
Prince  Metternich." 

" — As  to  have  a  feast  in  honor  of  my  promotion 
to  the  Order  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,"  continued 
Cesar. 

"  Oh,  yes!  I  know.  Who,  then,  told  me  of  that.? 
the  Kellers  or  Nucingen?" 

Roguin,  surprised  at  such  coolness,  made  a  gesture 
of  admiration. 

"  Ah!  no,  it  was  in  the  Chamber." 

"In  the  Chamber,  from  Monsieur  de  la  Billar- 
di^re?"  Cesar  asked. 

"  Precisely." 

"  He  is  delightful,"  said  Cesar  to  his  uncle. 

"He  drops  phrases,  phrases,"  said  Pillerault, 
"phrases  in  which  one  is  swamped." 

"  Perhaps  I  have  made  myself  worthy  of  this 
favor — "  Birotteau  continued. 

"  By  your  labors  in  perfumery:  the  Bourbons 
know  how  to  reward  all  merits.  Ah!  let  us  give 
credit  for  it  to  these  generous  legitimate  princes,  to 
whom  we  are  about  to  owe  unheard-of  prosperity — 


IN  HIS  GLORY  I9I 

for,  you  may  well  believe,  the  Restoration  feels 
that  it  ought  to  measure  lances  with  the  Empire;  it 
will  make  conquests  in  time  of  profound  peace.  You 
will  see  conquests! — " 

"  The  gentleman  will,  no  doubt,  do  us  the  honor 
of  attending  our  ball?"  said  Madame  Cesar. 

"  To  spend  an  evening  with  you,  madame,  1  would 
give  up  a  chance  of  making  millions." 

"  He  is  decidedly  quite  loquacious,"  said  Cesar  to 
his  uncle. 

Whilst  the  glory  of  the  perfumery  business,  in  its 
decline,  was  shedding  its  last  rays,  a  star  was  rising 
feebly  on  the  commercial  horizon.  Little  Popinot 
was  at  that  very  moment  laying  the  foundations  of 
his  fortune,  in  Rue  des  Cinq-Diamants,  a  narrow 
little  street  through  which  loaded  wagons  pass  with 
great  difficulty,  that  opens  on  the  Rue  des  Lombards 
at  one  end,  and  at  the  other  on  the  Rue  Aubry-le- 
Boucher,  opposite  the  Rue  Quincampoix,  a  famous 
street  of  old  Paris,  in  which  the  history  of  France 
has  been  so  much  illustrated,  in  spite  of  this  dis- 
advantage, the  close  proximity  of  the  dealers  in  drugs 
makes  this  street  favorable,  and,  in  this  respect, 
Popinot  had  not  made  a  bad  choice.  The  house, 
the  second  on  the  side  towards  the  Rue  des  Lom- 
bards, was  so  dark  that,  on  certain  days,  it  needed 
to  be  lit  up  in  full  day.  The  beginner  had  taken 
possession,  the  evening  before,  of  the  darkest  and 
most  disgusting  of  places.  His  predecessor,  a  dealer 
in  molasses  and  raw  sugar,  had  left  the  marks  of 
his   trade   on   the  walls,  in  the  court   and   in  the 


192  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

store-rooms.  Picture  to  yourself  a  large  and  spacious 
shop  with  heavy  iron-bound  doors,  painted  dragon- 
green,  with  exposed  long  iron  bands,  adorned  with 
nails  whose  heads  resembled  mushrooms,  provided 
with  grating  latticed  with  iron  bars  and  with  a 
projection  below  like  those  of  the  bakers  of  old — in 
fine,  with  great  white  stone  slabs,  most  of  them 
broken,  the  walls  yellow  and  bare  as  those  of  a 
guard-house.  Next  came  a  rear  shop  and  a  kitchen, 
lighted  from  the  court;  finally,  a  second  store  turning 
back,  which  formerly  must  have  been  a  stable. 
One  ascended,  by  an  interior  stair-case,  built  in  the 
rear  shop,  to  two  rooms  lighted  from  the  street,  which 
Popinot  intended  to  use  as  his  office  and  for  his 
books  and  cash.  Above  the  stores  were  three  small 
rooms  backed  by  the  party  wall,  looking  out  on  the 
court,  and  in  which  he  proposed  to  dwell.  Three 
dilapidated  rooms,  which  had  no  other  outlook,  but 
that  on  the  irregular  court,  dark,  surrounded  by 
walls,  where  the  moisture,  in  the  driest  time,  gave 
them  the  appearance  of  being  freshly  painted  in 
stone  color;  a  court  between  the  paving  stones  of 
which  was  found  a  black  and  noisome  filth  due  to 
the  occupation  by  the  molasses  and  the  raw  sugar. 
Only  one  of  the  rooms  had  a  fire-place;  all  were  un- 
papered,  and  paved  with  square  tiles.  Since  morn- 
ing, Gaudissart  and  Popinot,  assisted  by  a  journey- 
man paper-hanger,  whom  the  traveling  agent  had 
hunted  up,  were  themselves  hanging  a  fifteen-sou 
paper  in  this  horrible  room,  sized  by  the  jour- 
neyman.     A  collegian's   bed,  with  a  red,  wooden 


IN  HIS  GLORY 


193 


bedstead,  a  very  poor  night-chair,  an  antique  chest  of 
drawers,  a  table,  two  arm-chairs  and  six  ordinary 
chairs,  given  by  Judge  Popinot  to  his  nephew,  made 
up  the  furniture.  Gaudissart  had  put  on  the  chimney- 
piece  a  pier-glass,  with  a  very  mean  mirror,  bought 
second-hand.  About  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
seated  before  the  fire-place,  in  which  blazed  a  lighted 
faggot,  the  two  friends  were  going  to  dispose  of  what 
was  left  of  their  breakfast. 

"  The  cold  leg  of  mutton  to  the  rear!  that  is  not 
suitable  to  a  house-warming,"  exclaimed  Gaudissart. 

"But,"  said  Popinot,  showing  his  last  twenty- 
franc  piece,  which  he  was  keeping  to  pay  for  the 
prospectus,  "  I — " 

"  \?"  said  Gaudissart,  as  he  placed  a  forty-franc 
piece  on  his  eye. 

A  heavy  knock  then  resounded  in  the  court, 
naturally  lonely  and  sonorous  on  Sunday,  the  day 
on  which  the  industrial  class  dissipate  and  abandon 
their  workshops. 

"  That  is  the  faithful  fellow  from  Rue  de  la  Poterie. 
As  for  me,"  continued  the  Illustrious  Gaudissart, 
"I  have !  and  not  /.'" 

In  fact,  a  young  man,  followed  by  two  scullions, 
brought,  in  three  hand-baskets,  a  dinner  fortified 
with  six  bottles  of  wine  carefully  selected. 

"  But  how  will  we  be  able  to  dispose  of  so  much?" 
said  Popinot. 

"  And  the  man  of   letters!"  exclaimed  Gaudis- 
sart.   "  Finot  knows  the  pomps  and  the  vanities.    He 
will   come,   artless  youth!  armed  with  a  startling 
13 


194  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

prospectus.  That's  a  pretty  word,  eh!  Prospectuses 
are  always  thirsty.  We  must  water  the  seed  if  we 
would  have  flowers.  Go,  slaves,"  he  said  to  the 
scullions,  with  an  important  air,  "  here's  gold." 

He  gave  them  ten  sous  with  a  gesture  worthy  of 
Napoleon,  his  idol. 

"Thanks,  Monsieur  Gaudissart,"  replied  the 
scullions,  better  pleased  at  the  pleasantry  than  with 
the  money. 

"As  for  you,  my  boy,"  he  said  to  the  young 
man  who  remained  to  wait  on  them,  "there  is  a 
portress  who  sleeps  in  the  depths  of  a  den  where 
sometimes  she  cooks,  as  Nausicaa  of  old  did  wash- 
ing, for  pure  relaxation.  Get  you  to  her,  implore 
her  to  be  candid,  interest  her,  young  man,  in  the 
warming  of  these  dishes.  Tell  her  that  she  will 
be  blessed,  and  especially  respected,  very  much 
respected,  by  Felix  Gaudissart,  son  of  Jean-Francois 
Gaudissart,  grandson  of  the  Gaudissarts,  base 
proletaires  very  remote,  his  ancestors.  Hurry  up 
and  see  that  everything  is  all  right,  else  I  will  sing 
you  a  different  tune  in  C  major!" 

Another  heavy  knock  resounded. 

"  That  is  the  witty  Andoche,"  said  Gaudissart. 

A  stout  youth,  rather  chubfaced,  of  medium 
height,  and  who,  from  head  to  foot,  resembled  a 
hatter's  son,  of  round  features  in  which  cunning 
was  buried  under  a  serious  manner,  suddenly  made 
his  appearance.  His  countenance,  sad-looking  like 
that  of  a  man  tired  of  misery,  assumed  an  expression 
of  hilarity  when  he  saw  the  table  set  and  the  bottles 


IN  HIS  GLORY  195 

with  significant  wrappings.  On  hearing  Gaudissart's 
voice  his  pale  blue  eye  sparkled,  his  large  head,  sunk 
by  his  Kalmuk  figure,  moved  from  right  to  left,  and 
he  saluted  Popinot  in  a  strange  manner,  without 
either  servility  or  respect,  like  a  man  who  feels  him- 
self out  of  place  and  makes  no  concession.  He  then 
began  to  feel  in  himself  that  he  had  no  literary 
talent;  he  thought  of  remaining  in  literature  for  what 
he  could  make  out  of  it,  to  rise  in  it  on  the  shoulders 
of  witty  folk,  to  make  a  business  of  it  instead  of 
producing  poorly  paid  work;  at  that  moment,  after 
having  exhausted  the  humility  of  offers  and  the 
humiliation  of  attempts,  he  was  going,  like  people  of 
high  financial  aims,  to  turn  back  and  become  imper- 
tinent from  set  purpose.  But  he  needed  the  capital 
to  start.  Gaudissart  had  given  him  the  chance  by 
broaching  to  him  the  advertising  of  Popinot's  oil. 

"You  will  deal  on  his  account  with  the  newspapers, 
but  do  not  spoil  it;  if  you  do,  we  will  have  a  duel  to 
the  death;  give  him  something  for  his  money!" 

Popinot  looked  at  the  author  with  a  feeling  of  unea- 
siness. People  who  are  truly  commercial  look  upon 
an  author  with  a  feeling  that  partakes  somewhat  of 
terror,  compassion  and  curiosity.  Though  Popinot 
had  been  well  reared,  his  parents'  habits,  their  ideas, 
the  dulling  cares  of  a  shop  and  of  a  counting-house 
had  modified  his  intelligence  by  adapting  it  to  the 
uses  and  customs  of  his  profession,  a  phenomenon 
that  may  be  observed  by  remarking  the  metamor- 
phoses undergone  in  an  interval  of  ten  years  by  a 
hundred  comrades  leaving  college  or  boarding-school 


196  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

almost  similarly  equipped.  Andoche  regarded  this 
look  as  an  evidence  of  profound  admiration. 

"Very  well,  before  having  dinner  let  us  thor- 
oughly go  over  the  prospectus;  we  will  be  able  to 
drink  without  distraction,"  said  Gaudissart.  "After 
dinner  one  reads  badly.    Conversation  also  digests." 

"Sir,"  said  Popinot,  "a  prospectus  is  often  a 
whole  fortune." 

"  And  for  plebeians  like  me,  fortune  is  only  a 
prospectus,"  said  Andoche. 

"Ha!  very  well  said,"  said  Gaudissart.  "This 
droll  Andoche  is  as  witty  as  the  Forty." 

"As  a  hundred,"  said  Popinot,  stupefied  at  this 
idea. 

The  impatient  Gaudissart  took  the  manuscript  and 
read  in  a  loud  voice  and  with  emphasis:  CEPHALIC 
Oil! 

"  I  would  prefer  Cesarine  Oil,"  said  Popinot. 

"My  friend,"  said  Gaudissart,  "  you  do  not  know 
the  provincial  folk:  there  is  a  surgical  operation  of 
a  similar  name,  and  they  are  so  stupid  that  they 
would  think  your  oil  was  intended  to  facilitate  child- 
birth; to  bring  them  from  that  idea  to  the  hair  would 
take  too  much  pulling." 

"  Without  desiring  to  defend  my  expression,"  said 
the  author,  "I  beg  to  tell  you  that  Cephalic  Oil  means 
oil  for  the  head,  and  sums  up  your  ideas." 

"  Let  us  see,"  said  the  impatient  Popinot. 

Here  is  the  prospectus,  such  as  the  trade  receives 
it  by  the  thousand  even  nowadays. — Another  con- 
firmatory document. — 


IN  HIS  GLORY 


197 


GOLD  MEDAL  AT  THE  EXPOSITION  OF  1824. 


CEPHALIC  OIL. 


Patents  for  Invention  and  Improvement. 

No  cosmetic  can  make  the  hair  grow,  just  as  no  chemical 
preparation  dyes  it  without  danger  to  the  seat  of  the  intellect. 
Science  has  recently  declared  that  the  hair  is  a  dead  substance, 
and  that  no  agency  can  prevent  it  from  falling  out  or  turning 
white.  To  prevent  xerasia  and  baldness,  it  suffices  to  pre- 
serve the  bulb  from  which  it  springs  from  every  external 
atmospheric  influence,  and  to  keep  in  the  head  the  warmth 
that  is  necessary  to  it.  Cephalic  Oil,  based  on  these  principles, 
established  by  the  Academy  of  Science,  produces  this  impor- 
tant result,  believed  in  by  the  ancients,  the  Romans,  the 
Greeks  and  the  Northern  nations,  who  set  a  high  value  on 
the  hair.  Learned  researches  have  shown  that  the  nobles, 
who  were  of  old  distinguished  for  the  length  of  their  hair, 
used  no  other  means  ;  only  their  process,  skilfully  discovered 
by  A.  Popinot,  the  inventor  of  Cephalic  Oil,  had  been  lost. 

To  preserve,  instead  of  trying  to  promote,  an  impossible  or 
injurious  stimulation  of  the  derm  that  contains  the  bulbs,  is. 


198  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

then,  the  purpose  of  Cephalic  Oil.  Indeed  this  oil,  which  stops 
the  exfoliation  of  the  pellicles,  which  exhales  a  sweet  odor, 
and  which,  owing  to  the  substances  composing  it,  into  which 
enters,  as  a  chief  element,  hazel-nut  essence,  is  proof  against 
all  action  of  the  external  air  on  the  head,  and  thus  prevents 
colds,  coryza,  and  all  the  painful  affections  of  the  encephalon, 
by  leaving  it  its  internal  temperature.  In  this  way  the  bulbs 
that  contain  the  generative  liquor  of  the  hair  are  never 
attacked  either  by  cold  or  by  heat.  The  hair,— that  magnifi- 
cent product, — to  which  both  men  and  women  attach  so  much 
value,  then  keeps,  by  means  of  Cephalic  Oil,  until  the  person 
using  it  reaches  old  age,  that  lustre,  that  fineness,  that  fresh- 
ness which  make  children's  heads  so  charming. 

Instructions  for  using  accompany  each  flask  and  serve  as  a 
wrapper  for  it. 

MODE  OF  USING  THE  CEPHALIC  OIL. 

It  is  quite  useless  to  oil  the  hair  ;  it  is  not  only  a  ridiculous 
prejudice,  it  is  also  a  troublesome  habit,  in  the  sense  that  the 
cosmetic  leaves  its  trace  everywhere.  It  suffices  every  morn- 
ing to  wet  a  small  fine  sponge  in  the  oil,  to  lift  up  the  hair 
with  a  comb,  to  saturate  the  hair  at  its  roots  at  each  parting, 
so  that  the  skin  receives  a  light  layer,  after  having  previously 
cleansed  the  head  with  brush  and  comb. 

This  oil  is  sold  in  flasks  bearing  the  inventor's  signature, 
so  as  to  prevent  all  counterfeiting,  and  at  the  price  of  three 
FRANCS,  at  A.  POPINOT'S,  Ruedes  Cinq-Diamants,  Quar- 
tier  des  Lombards,  Paris. 

PEOPLE  ARE   ASKED  TO  WRITE  PREPAID- 

Note.—lht  house  of  A.  Popinot  also  keeps  the  oils  of  the 
drug  trade,  such  as  neroli,  aspic  oil,  sweet  almond  oil  cacao 
oil,  coffee  oil,  Palma  Christi  oil,  and  others. 

"  My  dear  friend,"  said  the  Illustrious  Gaudissart 
to  Finot,  "  it  is  perfectly  written.  Zounds,  how  we 
are  getting  to  the  higher  science!  We  are  not  going 
by  twists  and  turns;  we  are  going  direct  to  the  fact. 


IN  HIS  GLORY  I99 

Ah!  I  offer  you  my  sincere  congratulations.  This  is 
useful  literature." 

"What  a  fine  prospectus!"  said  Popinot,  with 
enthusiasm. 

"A  prospectus  whose  first  word  kills  Macassar," 
said  Gaudissart,  rising  with  a  magisterial  air  to  pro- 
nounce the  following  words  which  he  scanned  with 
parliamentary  gestures:  "  '  No  one — can — make — 
the  hair — grow!  no  one — dyes— it — without — dan- 
ger!' Ha!  ha!  there  is  success.  Modern  science 
is  in  accord  with  the  habits  of  the  ancients.  One 
can  have  an  understanding  with  the  old  and  with  the 
young.  You  have  to  deal  with  an  old  man:  '  Ah!  ha! 
sir,  the  ancients,  the  Greeks,  the  Romans,  were 
right,  and  were  not  so  stupid  as  some  would  like  to 
make  us  believe!'  You  are  treating  with  a  young 
man.  *  My  dear  boy,  one  more  discovery  due  to  the 
progress  of  enlightenment.  We  are  progressing. 
What  may  we  not  expect  from  steam,  the  telegraph 
and  other  things!  This  oil  is  the  result  of  a  report 
made  by  Monsieur  Vauquelin!'  Suppose  we  print  a 
passage  of  Monsieur  Vauquelin's  memoir  to  the 
Academy  of  Science,  confirming  our  assertions,  eh! 
Famous!  Let  us  go  to  table,  Finot!  Let  us  chew  the 
vegetables!  Let  us  guzzle  the  champagne  to  the 
success  of  our  young  friend!" 

"  I  thought,"  said  the  author,  modestly,  "  that  the 
time  for  light  and  jocular  prospectuses  had  passed. 
We  are  entering  on  the  period  of  science;  we  must 
have  a  doctoral  air,  a  tone  of  authority,  in  order  to 
impose  on  the  public." 


200  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

"We  will  warm  that  oil;  my  feet  are  itching,  and 
so  is  my  tongue.  I  have  the  orders  of  all  those  who 
deal  in  hair.  No  one  gives  over  thirty  per  cent  any 
more;  one  must  make  forty  per  cent  discount.  I 
answer  for  a  hundred  thousand  bottles  in  six  months. 
I  will  attack  pharmacists,  grocers,  hair-dressers!  and, 
by  giving  them  forty  per  cent,  all  will  gull  their 
customers." 

The  three  young  men  ate  like  lions,  drank  like 
Swiss,  and  became  intoxicated  over  the  future  suc- 
cess of  the  Cephalic  Oil. 

"This  oil  goes  to  the  head,"  said  Finot,  smiling. 

Gaudissart  exhausted  the  different  series  of  puns 
on  the  words  oil,  hair,  head,  etc.  In  the  midst  of 
the  Homeric  laughter  of  the  three  friends,  as  dessert, 
in  spite  of  the  toasts  and  the  reciprocal  wishes  for 
success,  a  loud  knock  resounded  and  was  heard. 

"  It  is  my  uncle!  It  is  like  him  to  come  to  see  me," 
exclaimed  Popinot. 

"An  uncle.?"  said  Finot;  "and  we  haven't  a 
glass!" 

"  My  friend  Popinot's  uncle  is  a  committing 
judge,"  said  Gaudissart  to  Finot.  "  It  is  not  a  ques- 
tion of  mystifying  him;  he  saved  my  life.  Ah!  when 
one  has  found  himself  in  the  pass  in  which  I  was,  in 
sight  of  the  scaffold,  where  kouik,  and  good-by  to 
your  hair!"  he  said,  imitating  the  fatal  blade  with  a 
gesture,  "  one  remembers  the  worthy  magistrate  to 
whom  one  is  indebted  for  having  the  pipe  through 
which  champagne  passes!  One  remembers  him 
even  when  dead  drunk.     You  do  not  know,  Finot, 


IN    HIS   GLORY  20I 

whether    you    may    not    need    Monsieur    Popinot. 
Zounds,  toasts  are  necessary  and  six  to  the  franc  still. " 

The  noble  committing  judge  called,  in  effect,  to 
his  nephew  from  the  gate.  On  recognizing  the  voice, 
Anselme  went  down,  holding  a  candlestick  in  his 
hand  to  show  the  way. 

"I  salute  you,  gentlemen,"  said  the  magistrate. 

The  Illustrious  Gaudissart  bowed  profoundly. 
Finot  examined  the  judge  with  a  tipsy  eye,  and 
found  him  passably  thick-skulled. 

"  There  is  no  luxury  here,"  gravely  remarked 
the  judge,  as  he  looked  around  the  room;  "  but,  my 
boy,  to  be  something  great,  you  must  know  how  to 
begin  by  being  nothing." 

"What  a  profound  man!"  said  Gaudissart  to 
Finot. 

"A  thought  for  an  article,"  said  the  newspaper 
man. 

"  Ah!  there  you  are,  sir,"  said  the  judge,  as  he 
recognized  the  traveling  agent.  "Eh!  what  are  you 
doing  here?" 

"  Sir,  I  wish  to  contribute  with  all  my  little  might 
to  your  dear  nephew's  success.  We  have  just  been 
meditating  on  the  prospectus  for  his  oil,  and  you  see 
in  this  gentleman  the  author  of  this  prospectus, 
which  seems  to  us  one  of  the  finest  pieces  of  this  wig 
literature." 

The  judge  looked  at  Finot. 

"  The  gentleman,"  said  Gaudissart,  "  is  Monsieur 
Andoche  Finot,  one  of  the  most  distinguished  young 
men  in  literature,  who  writes  up  in  the  Government 


202  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

newspapers  the  more  important  politics  and  the 
minor  theatricals;  and  is  now  fairly  on  the  way  to 
being  an  author." 

Finot  pulled  the  skirt  of  Gaudissart's  frock-coat. 

"  Good,  my  boys,"  said  the  judge,  to  whom  these 
words  explained  the  appearance  of  the  table,  on 
which  were  seen  the  remains  of  a  feast  that  was 
quite  excusable.  "My  friend,"  said  the  judge  to 
Popinot,  "  get  dressed.  We  are  going  this  evening  to 
Monsieur  Birotteau's,  to  whom  I  owe  a  visit.  You 
will  sign  your  partnership  deed,  which  I  have 
carefully  examined.  As  you  will  have  your  oil 
factory  on  the  land  in  the  Faubourg  du  Temple,  I 
think  he  ought  to  give  you  a  lease  of  the  workshop, 
with  the  right  of  assignment.  When  matters  are 
in  good  shape  they  save  discussion.  These  walls  to 
me  seem  damp;  Anselme,  put  straw  mats  where 
your  bed  is  to  be." 

"  Excuse  me,  Monsieur  le  Juge,"  said  Gaudis- 
sart,  with  the  slyness  of  a  courtier,  "we  have 
ourselves  hung  this  paper  this  very  day,  and — it — 
has  not — dried — yet." 

"  Economy!  good,"  said  the  judge. 

"  Listen,"  said  Gaudissart  in  Finot's  ear.  "My 
friend  Popinot  is  a  virtuous  young  man;  he  is  going 
with  his  uncle.  Let  us  go  and  spend  the  rest  of  the 
evening  with  our  fair  friends." 

The  newspaper  man  showed  the  lining  of  his  vest 
pocket.  Popinot  saw  the  movement,  and  passed 
twenty  francs  to  the  author  of  his  prospectus.  The 
judge  had  a  hackney-coach  at  the  end  of  the  street, 


IN  HIS  GLORY  203 

and  took  his  nephew  to  Birotteau's.  Pillerault, 
Monsieur  and  Madame  Ragon  and  Roguin  were 
playing  boston,  and  Cesarine  was  embroidering  a 
neckerchief,  when  Judge  Popinot  and  Anselme  made 
their  appearance.  Roguin,  who  sat  opposite  to 
Madame  Ragon,  near  whom  was  Cesarine,  remarked 
the  girl's  pleasure  when  she  saw  Anselme  enter; 
and,  by  a  sign,  he  called  his  chief  clerk's  attention 
to  her  blushing  as  red  as  a  pomegranate. 

"It  will,  then,  be  the  day  of  deeds?"  said  the 
perfumer  when,  the  salutations  being  over,  the  judge 
had  told  him  the  reason  for  his  visit. 

Cesar,  Anselme  and  the  judge  went  to  the  third 
floor,  to  the  perfumer's  emergency  room,  to  discuss 
the  lease  and  the  deed  of  partnership  drawn  up  by 
the  magistrate.  The  lease  was  consented  to  for 
eighteen  years,  in  order  to  make  it  agree  with  that  of 
the  Rue  des  Cinq-Diamants,  an  apparently  unimpor- 
tant circumstance,  but  one  that  later  on  served  Birot- 
teau's interests.  When  Cesar  and  the  judge 
returned  to  the  entresol,  the  magistrate,  astonished 
at  the  general  upset  and  the  workmen's  presence  on 
Sunday  at  the  house  of  a  man  so  religious  as  was  the 
perfumer,  asked  the  reason  for  it,  and  the  perfumer 
had  him  there. 

"  Though  you  be  not  a  worldly  man,  sir,  you  will 
not  think  it  ill  that  we  should  celebrate  the  deliver- 
ance of  the  territory.  That  is  not  all.  If  I  gather 
together  some  friends,  it  is  also  to  have  a  feast  in 
honor  of  my  promotion  to  the  Order  of  the  Legion  of 
Honor." 


204  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

"Ah!"  remarked  the  judge,  who  was  not  deco- 
rated. 

"  Perhaps  I  have  made  myself  worthy  of  this 
distinguished  and  royal  favor  by  sitting  in  the  Tribu- 
nal—oh! of  Commerce,  and  fighting  for  the  Bour- 
bons on  the  steps — " 

"Yes,"  said  the  judge. 

"_Of  Saint-Roch,  on  the  thirteenth  Vendemiaire, 
where  I  was  wounded  by  Napoleon." 

"  By  all  means,"  said  the  judge,  "if  my  wife 
be  not  ill,  I  will  bring  her." 

"  Xandrot,"  said  Roguin,  on  the  door-step,  to  his 
clerk,  "do  not  think  on  any  account  of  marrying 
Cesarine,  and  in  six  weeks  you  will  see  that  I  have 
given  you  good  advice." 

"Why?"  asked  Crottat. 

"  Birotteau,  my  dear  fellow,  is  going  to  spend  a 
hundred  thousand  francs  on  his  ball.  He  has  risked 
his  fortune  in  this  business  of  the  land  in  spite  of 
my  advice.  In  six  weeks  those  folks  will  not  have 
even  bread.  Marry  Mademoiselle  Lourdois,  the 
house  painter's  daughter;  she  has  three  hundred 
thousand  francs  dowry.  I  have  managed  this  shift 
for  you!  If  you  only  give  me  a  hundred  thousand 
francs  as  a  consideration  for  my  office,  you  can  have 
it  to-morrow." 


* 


The  magnificence  of  the  ball  that  the  perfumer 
was  preparing,  announced  throughout  Europe  by 
the  newspapers,  was  quite  otherwise  heralded  in 
trade  by  the  rumors  occasioned  by  the  work  going 
on  day  and  night.  Here,  it  was  said  that  Cesar 
had  rented  three  houses;  there,  that  he  was  having 
his  parlors  gilded;  farther  on,  the  banquet  was  to 
have  dishes  invented  for  the  occasion;  over  there, 
merchants,  it  was  said,  would  not  be  invited  to  it,  the 
feast  was  to  be  given  for  employes  of  the  Govern- 
ment; this  way,  the  perfumer  was  severely  criticised 
for  his  ambition,  and  people  made  fun  of  his  political 
pretensions,  denied  that  he  had  been  wounded! 
The  ball  was  the  occasion  of  more  than  one  intrigue 
in  the  second  arrondissement;  friends  were  peace- 
fully disposed,  but  the  pretensions  of  mere  acquaint- 
ances were  truly  wonderful.  Every  favor  brings 
courtiers.  There  were  quite  a  number  of  people  to 
whom  their  invitation  cost  more  than  one  application. 
The  Birotteaus  were  astounded  at  the  number  of 
friends  whom  they  did  not  recognize.  This  pressure 
frightened  Madame  Birotteau;  her  mien  became  day 
by  day  more  and  more  sombre,  as  this  solemnity 
approached.  At  first  she  acknowledged  to  Cesar 
that  she  never  knew  what  face  to  put  on.  She  was 
frightened  at  the  innumerable  details  of  such  a 
feast:  where   find   plate,   glassware,  refreshments, 

(205) 


206  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

dishes,  service?  And  who,  then,  would  superintend 
everything?  She  entreated  Birotteau  to  take  his 
stand  at  the  entrance  to  their  tenement  and  not  let 
anyone  pass  in,  but  those  who  had  been  invited. 
She  had  heard  strange  things  told  about  people  who 
came  to  bourgeois  balls,  claiming  to  be  friends  of 
those  whom  they  could  not  name.  When,  ten  days 
before,  Braschon,  Grindot,  Lourdois  and  Chaffa- 
roux,  the  building  contractor,  had  asserted  that  the 
tenement  would  be  ready  for  the  famous  Sunday, 
December  17,  there  was  a  laughable  conference  in 
the  evening,  after  dinner,  in  the  modest  little  parlor 
of  the  entresol,  between  Cesar,  his  wife  and  his 
daughter,  to  make  up  the  list  of  the  guests  and 
send  out  the  invitations,  which  that  morning  a 
printer  had  sent  printed  in  beautiful  English  style, 
on  rose-tinted  paper,  and  according  to  the  formula 
of  the  code  of  puerile  and  honest  civility. 

"Ah,  now!  let  us  not  forget  anybody,"  said 
Birotteau. 

"if  we  forget  anyone,"  said  Constance,  "they 
will  never  forget  us.  Madame  Derville,  who  had 
never  paid  us  a  visit,  landed  here  yesterday  evening 
in  a  four-in-hand." 

"  She  looked  fine,"  said  Cesarine;  "  I  was  pleased 
with  her." 

"  Yet  before  her  marriage  she  was  even  less  than 
1,"  said  Constance;  "she  worked  on  linen,  on  Rue 
Montmartre,  making  shirts  at  her  father's." 

"Well,  let  us  begin  the  list,"  said  Birotteau, 
"with  the  most   swell    people.      Cesarine,   write: 


IN   HIS   GLORY  207 

Monsieur  le  Due  and  Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Lenon- 
court — " 

"  My  goodness!  Cesar,"  said  Constance,  "  do  not 
send  a  single  invitation  to  persons  whom  you  know 
only  from  supplying  goods  to  them.  Are  you  going 
to  invite  the  Princesse  de  Blamont-Chauvry,  still 
more  closely  related  to  your  late  god-mother,  the 
Marquise  d'Uxelles,  than  the  Due  de  Lenoncourt? 
Would  you  invite  the  two  Messieurs  de  Vandenesse, 
Monsieur  de  Marsay,  Monsieur  de  Ronquerolles, 
Monsieur  d'Aiglemont,  in  fine,  your  customers? 
You  are  a  fool,  greatness  is  turning  your  head — " 

"Yes!  but  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  Fontaine  and 
his  family.  Eh!  He  came  under  his  name  of  Gmfid- 
Jacqiies,  with  Le  Gars,  who  was  Monsieur  le  Marquis 
de  Montauran,  and  Monsieur  de  la  Billardi^re,  who 
was  called  Le  Nantais,  to  La  Reine  des  Roses,  before 
the  great  affair  of  the  thirteenth  Vendemiaire. 
That  was  a  time  for  handshaking!  '  My  dear  Birot- 
teau,  courage!  Let  yourself  be  killed  like  us  for 
the  good  cause!'  We  are  old-time  comrades  in  con- 
spiracy." 

"  Put  him  down,"  said  Constance.  "  If  Monsieur 
de  la  Billardiere  and  his  son  come,  they  must  have 
some  one  they  can  talk  to." 

"  Write,  Cesarine,"  said  Birotteau,  "primo:  the 
Prefect  of  the  Seine.  He  may  come  or  may  not 
come,  but  he  is  in  command  of  the  municipal  body: 
honor  io  whom  honor  is  due ! — Monsieur  de  la  Billar- 
diere and  his  son,  the  mayor.  Put  the  number  of 
those  invited  at  the  end. — My  colleague.  Monsieur 


208  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

Granet,  the  deputy,  and  his  wife.  She  is  very  plain, 
but  that  is  all  the  same,  we  cannot  dispense  with 
her! — Monsieur  Curel,  the  goldsmith,  colonel  of  the 
National  Guard,  his  wife  and  two  daughters.  They 
are  what  I  call  the  authorities.  Then  come  the  big- 
wigs!— Monsieur  le  Comte  and  Madame  la  Comtesse 
de  Fontaine,  and  their  daughter,  Mademoiselle  Emilie 
de  Fontaine." 

"  An  impertinent  damsel,  who  takes  me  out  of  my 
shop  to  speak  to  me  at  her  carriage  door,  no  matter 
what  kind  of  weather  it  be,"  said  Madame  Cesar. 
"  If  she  comes,  it  will  be  to  make  fun  of  us." 

"Then  she  will  perhaps  come,"  said  Cesar,  who 
wanted  people  by  all  means.  "  Continue,  Cesarine. 
— Monsieur  le  Comte  and  Madame  la  Comtesse  de 
Granville,  my  landlord,  that  most  famous  head- 
piece of  the  royal  court,  Derville  says. — Ah!  See! 
Monsieur  de  la  Billardiere  will  have  me  received  as 
chevalier  to-morrow  by  Monsieur  le  Comte  de 
Lacepede  himself.  It  is  right  that  I  should  slip  an 
invitation  to  the  ball  and  to  dinner  to  the  Grand 
Chancellor. — Monsieur  Vauquelin. — Put  him  down 
for  ball  and  dinner,  Cesarine.  And,  so  as  not  to 
forget  them,  all  the  Chiffrevilles  and  Protezes. — 
Monsieur  Popinot,  judge  in  the  tribunal  of  the  Seine, 
and  Madame  Popinot. — Monsieur  Thirion,  usher  to 
the  king's  office,  and  Madame  Thirion,  the  Ragons' 
friends,  and  their  daughter,  who  is  going,  it  is  said, 
to  marry  one  of  Monsieur  Camusot's  sons  by  his 
first  wife." 

"  Cesar,  do    not   forget   little  Horace   Bianchon, 


IN   HIS  GLORY  2O9 

Monsieur  Popinot's  nephew  and  Anselme's  cousin," 
said  Constance. 

"Oh,  certes!  Cesarine  has  indeed  put  a  four 
after  the  Popinots. — Monsieur  Rabourdin,  one  of  the 
heads  of  a  bureau  in  Monsieur  de  la  Billardiere's 
department,  and  Madame  Rabourdin. —  Monsieur 
Cochin,  of  the  same  department,  his  wife  and  son, 
the  silent  partners  of  the  Matifats,  and  Monsieur, 
Madame  and  Mademoiselle  Matifat,  as  long  as  we 
are  at  them." 

"The  Matifats,"  said  Cesarine,  "have  put  in  a  word 
for  Monsieur  and  Madame  Colleville,  Monsieur  and 
Madame  Thuillier,  their  friends,  and  the  Saillards." 

"We  will  see,"  said  Cesar.  "Our  brokers, 
Monsieur  and  Madame  Jules  Desmarets." 

"  She  will  be  the  belle  of  the  ball,  will  she.?"  said 
Cesarine;  "  she  pleases  me;  oh!  more  than  any  one 
else." 

"  Derville  and  his  wife." 

"  Put  down,  then,  Monsieur  and  Madame  Coque- 
iin,  my  uncle  Pillerault's  successors,"  said  Con- 
stance. "  They  are  counting  so  much  on  being  pres- 
ent that  the  poor  little  woman  is  having  my  dress- 
maker make  a  superb  ball-dress:  a  robe  of  tulle 
embroidered  with  chicory  flowers  over  white  satin. 
A  little  more  and  she  would  have  had  a  dress  en- 
riched so  as  to  go  to  the  court,  if  we  failed  in  that 
we  would  have  had  them  for  bitter  enemies." 

"Put  down,  Cesarine — we  should  honor  trade, 
for  we  are  in  it  ourselves — Monsieur  and  Madame 
Roguin." 
14 


2IO  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

"Mamma,  Madame  Roguin  will  put  on  her  neck- 
lace, all  her  diamonds  and  her  Mechlin-trimmed 
dress." 

"Monsieur  and  Madame  Lebas,"  said  Cesar. 
"  Then  the  president  of  the  Tribunal  of  Commerce, 
his  wife  and  two  daughters.  I  overlooked  them  in 
enumerating  the  authorities.  Monsieur  and  Madame 
Lourdois  and  their  daughter.  Monsieur  Claparon, 
the  banker,  Monsieur  Du  Tillet,  Monsieur  Grindot, 
Monsieur  Molineux,  Pillerault  and  his  landlord.  Mon- 
sieur and  Madame  Camusot,  the  rich  silk  dealers, 
with  all  their  children,  him  of  the  Polytechnic 
School  and  the  lawyer:  he  is  going  to  be  appointed 
to  a  judgeship,  on  account  of  his  marriage  with 
Mademoiselle  Thirion." 

"  But  in  the  provinces,"  said  Cesarine. 

"Monsieur  Cardot,  Camusot's  father-in-law,  and 
all  the  young  Cardots.  Hold!  and  the  Guillaumes, 
of  the  Rue  du  Colombier,  Lebas's  father-in-law,  two 
old  people  who  will  fill  up:  Alexandre  Crottat,  Ce- 
lestin— " 

"  Papa,  don't  forget  Monsieur  Andoche  Finot  and 
Monsieur  Gaudissart,  two  young  men  who  are  very 
useful  to  Monsieur  Anselme." 

"Gaudissart?  He  has  been  hauled  up  in  court. 
But  it  is  all  the  same:  he  is  going  away  in  a  few 
days  and  will  travel  for  our  oil — put  him  down!  As 
for  Sieur  Andoche  Finot,  what  is  he  to  us?" 

"  Monsieur  Anselme  says  he  will  become  a  some- 
body, he  has  ability  like  Voltaire." 

"  An  author?     All  atheists." 


IN  HIS  GLORY  211 

"  Put  him  down,  papa;  so  far  there  are  not  so 
many  dancers.  Moreover,  that  fine  prospectus  for 
your  oil  is  his  worl<," 

"  He  believes  in  our  oil,''  said  Cesar;  "put  him 
down,  darling." 

"  I  am  putting  down  my  proteges,  also,"  said 
Cesarine. 

"  Put  down  Monsieur  Mitral,  my  constable;  Mon- 
sieur Haudry,  our  doctor,  for  form's  sake,  as  he  will 
not  come." 

"He  will  come  just  to  do  his  part,"  said  Cesa- 
rine. 

"Ah,  there!  I  hope,  Cesar,  that  you  will  invite 
Monsieur  I'Abbe  Loraux  to  dinner?" 

"  I  have  already  written  to  him,"  said  Cesar. 

"Oh!  don't  let  us  forget  Lebas's  sister-in-law, 
Madame  Augustine  de  Sommervieux,"  said  Cesa- 
rine. "  Poor  little  woman!  she  is  a  great  sufferer; 
she  is  killing  herself  with  grief,  Lebas  has  told  us." 

"  That's  what  it  is  to  marry  an  artist,"  exclaimed 
the  perfumer.  "  Just  look  at  your  mother  going  to 
sleep,"  he  said  in  an  undertone  to  his  daughter. 
"Ha!  ha!  good  evening,  then,  Madame  Cesar. 
Well,"  said  Cesar  to  Cesarine,  "  and  your  mother's 
dress  .'*" 

"Yes,  papa,  everything  will  be  ready.  Mamma 
thinks  she  has  only  one  dress,  the  China  crape  one, 
like  mine;  the  dressmaker  is  sure  she  will  not  have 
to  try  it  on." 

"How  many  persons?"  Cesar  asked  in  a  loud 
voice  as  he  saw  his  wife  reopen  her  eyes. 


212  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

"One  hundred  and  nine,  including  the  clerks," 
said  Cesarine. 

"Where  shall  we  put  all  those  people?"  remarked 
Madame  Birotteau.  "But  at  last,  after  that  Sun- 
day," she  continued  artlessly,  "there  will  be  a 
Monday." 

Nothing  can  be  done  in  a  simple  way  by  people 
who  go  up  from  one  social  stage  to  another.  Neither 
Madame  Birotteau,  nor  Cesar,  nor  anyone  could 
under  any  pretext  intrude  on  the  second  floor. 
Cesar  had  promised  Raguet,  his  shop-boy,  a  new 
suit  of  clothes  for  the  day  of  the  ball,  if  he  kept 
faithful  guard  and  carried  out  his  task  well.  Birot- 
teau, like  the  Emperor  Napoleon  at  Compiegne  at  the 
time  of  the  restoration  of  the  castle  for  his  marriage 
to  Marie  Louise  of  Austria,  wanted  to  see  nothing 
half  done;  he  wished  to  enjoy  the  surprise.  These 
two  former  adversaries  met  once  more,  without  their 
knowing  it,  not  on  a  field  of  battle,  but  on  that  of 
middle-class  vanity.  Monsieur  Grindot  was,  then, 
to  take  Cesar  by  the  hand  and  show  him  the  tene- 
ment, as  a  guide  shows  a  gallery  to  a  sight-seer. 
Each  person  in  the  house  had,  moreover,  invented 
his  or  her  surprise.  Cesarine,  the  dear  child,  used 
all  of  her  small  treasure,  a  hundred  louis,  to  buy 
books  for  her  father.  Monsieur  Grindot  had,  one 
morning,  confided  to  her  that  there  would  be  two 
book-cases  in  her  father's  room,  which  formed  an 
office — an  architect's  surprise.  Cesarine  threw  all 
her  savings  as  a  young  girl  on  a  bookseller's  counter, 
to  get   for    her   father:    Bossuet,  Racine,  Voltaire, 


IN  HIS  GLORY  213 

Jean-Jacques  Rousseau,  Montesquieu,  Moli^re,  Buf- 
fon,  Fenelon,  Delille,  Bernardin  de  Saint-Pierre,  La 
Fontaine,  Corneille,  Pascal,  La  Harpe,  in  fine,  those 
common  books  that  are  to  be  found  everywhere  and 
which  her  father  would  never  read.  There  was  to 
be  an  enormous  bill  for  binding.  The  sloppy  and 
yet  famous  book-binder,  Thouvenin,  an  artist,  prom- 
ised to  deliver  the  volumes  on  the  eighteenth,  at 
noon.  Cesarine  confided  her  embarrassment  to  her 
uncle  Pillerault,  and  the  uncle  undertook  to  foot  the 
bill.  Cesar's  surprise  to  his  wife  was  a  cherry- 
colored  velvet  dress  trimmed  with  lace,  of  which  he 
had  just  spoken  to  his  daughter,  his  accomplice. 
Madame  Birotteau's  surprise  to  the  new  chevalier 
consisted  of  a  pair  of  gold  buckles  and  a  solitaire 
pin.  in  fine,  there  was  for  the  whole  family  the 
surprise  of  the  tenement,  which  was  to  be  followed 
in  a  fortnight  by  the  great  surprise  of  the  bills  to  be 
paid. 

Cesar  weighed  carefully  which  invitations  were  to 
be  given  in  person  and  which  should  be  taken  by 
Raguet  in  the  evening.  He  hired  a  hack,  into  which 
he  placed  his  wife  disfigured  with  a  feather-trimmed 
hat  and  the  last  shawl  he  had  given  her,  the 
cashmere  that  she  had  desired  for  fifteen  years. 
The  perfumers  in  full  dress  disposed  of  twenty-two 
visits  in  a  forenoon. 

Cesar  spared  his  wife  all  the  trouble  caused  by  the 
middle-class  cooking  at  home  of  the  different  comes- 
tibles that  the  splendor  of  the  feast  required.  A 
diplomatic  treaty  was  concluded  between  the  famous 


214  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

Chevet  and  Birotteau.  Chevet  supplied  superb 
plate,  to  rent  which  cost  as  much  as  an  estate;  he 
furnished  dinner,  wines,  servants  commanded  by  a 
head-waiter  of  agreeable  mien,  all  responsible  for 
their  doings  and  actions.  Chevet  required  the 
kitchen  and  the  dining-room  of  the  entresol  to  set  up 
his  general  quarters  in;  he  was  not  the  man  to  slight 
serving  a  dinner  for  twenty  persons  at  six  o'clock, 
and  at  one  in  the  morning  a  magnificent  collation. 
Birotteau  had  an  understanding  with  the  Cafe  Foy 
for  iced  fruit,  served  in  pretty  cups,  with  silver-gilt 
spoons  and  silver  trays.  Tanrade,  another  famous 
personage,  furnished  the  refreshments. 

"  Make  your  mind  easy,"  said  Cesar  to  his  wife, 
on  seeing  her  a  little  too  restless  the  second  evening 
before;  "Chevet,  Tanrade  and  the  Cafe  Foy  will 
occupy  the  entresol,  Virginie  will  look  to  the  third, 
the  shop  will  be  securely  closed,  we  will  have  only 
to  strut  on  the  second." 

On  the  sixteenth,  at  two  o'clock.  Monsieur  de  la 
Billardiere  came  for  Cesar  to  bring  him  to  the 
Chancellor's  office  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  where  he 
was  to  be  initiated  as  a  chevalier  by  the  Comte  de 
Lacep^de,  along  with  a  half  score  other  chevaliers. 
The  mayor  found  the  perfumer  with  tears  in  his 
eyes:  Constance  had  just  given  him  the  surprise  of 
the  gold  buckles  and  the  solitaire. 

*'  It  is  too  sweet  to  be  so  loved,"  he  said  as  he  got 
into  the  hack  in  the  presence  of  his  assembled 
clerks,  Cesarine  and  Constance. 

They  all  looked  at  Cesar  in  black  silk  breeches, 


IN  HIS  GLORY  215 

silk  stockings,  and  the  new  blue-bottle  coat,  on  the 
lapel  of  which  was  going  to  shine  the  ribbon  that, 
according  to  Molineux,  was  steeped  in  blood. 

When  Cesar  returned  at  dinner-time  he  was  pale 
from  joy;  he  looked  at  his  Cross  in  all  the  mirrors; 
for,  in  his  first  intoxication,  he  was  not  merely 
satisfied  with  the  Ribbon,  he  was  glorious,  without 
any  false  modesty. 

"Wife,"  he  said,  "the  Grand  Chancellor  is  a 
charming  man;  at  a  mere  suggestion  from  La 
Billardiere  he  accepted  my  invitation;  he  is  coming 
along  with  Monsieur  Vauquelin.  Monsieur  de 
Lacep^de  is  a  great  man,  yes,  just  as  great  as 
Monsieur  Vauquelin;  he  has  written  forty  volumes! 
But  he  is  also  an  author  who  is  a  Peer  of  France. 
Let  us  not  forget  to  address  him  as  *  Your  Lordship  ' 
or  Count." 

"  Go  on  and  eat,"  his  wife  said  to  him.  "  He  is 
worse  than  a  child,  is  your  father,"  said  Constance 
to  Cesarine. 

"How  becoming  that  is  in  your  buttonhole," 
said  Cesarine.  "  We  will  have  your  arms  brought 
to  you,  and  we  will  go  out  together." 

"  My  arms  shall  be  brought  to  me  whenever  there 
are  sentries  needed." 

At  that  moment  Grindot  came  down  along  with 
Braschon.  "  After  dinner,  sir,  madame  and  the 
young  lady  may  enjoy  a  look  at  the  rooms. 
Braschon's  first  apprentice  is  nailing  the  last  of  some 
curtain-holders,  and  three  of  the  men  are  lighting 
the  candles." 


2l6  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

"A  hundred  and  twenty  candles  are  needed," 
said  Braschon. 

"  A  bill  of  two  hundred  francs  at  Trudon's,"  said 
Madame  Cesar,  whose  complaints  were  stopped  by 
a  look  from  Chevalier  Birotteau, 

"Your  feast  will  be  magnificent,  chevalier,"  said 
Braschon. 

Birotteau  said  to  himself: 

"  Flatterers  already!  The  Abbe  Loraux  has  been 
so  good  as  to  put  me  on  my  guard  against  these 
stumbling-blocks  and  hinted  to  me  to  remain  modest. 
I  will  remember  my  origin." 

Cesar  did  not  understand  what  the  rich  upholsterer 
of  the  Rue  Saint-Antoine  meant.  Braschon  made 
eleven  useless  attempts  to  be  invited,  he,  his  wife, 
his  daughter,  his  mother-in-law  and  his  aunt. 
Braschon  became  Birotteau's  enemy.  Once  on  the 
door-step  he  no  longer  called  him  "chevalier." 

The  general  rehearsal  began.  Cesar,  his  wife 
and  Cesarine  left  the  shop  and  went  to  their  living- 
rooms  by  way  of  the  street.  The  door  of  the  house 
had  been  remodeled  in  grand  style,  with  two  sections, 
divided  into  equal  and  square  panels,  between 
which  was  an  architectural  ornament  of  cast-iron 
painted.  This  door,  which  has  become  so  common 
in  Paris,  was  then  quite  a  novelty.  At  the  lower 
end  of  the  vestibule  the  stairway  was  to  be  seen, 
divided  into  two  straight  flights,  between  which  was 
that  support  about  which  Birotteau  had  been  so 
anxious,  and  which  formed  a  species  of  box  in  which 
an  old  woman  could  be  stationed.     This  vestibule, 


IN  HIS  GLORY  217 

flagged  with  white  and  black  marble,  and  painted 
marble  color,  was  lighted  by  an  antique  lamp  with 
four  burners.  In  the  architecture,  richness  was 
blended  with  simplicity.  A  narrow  red  carpet 
relieved  the  whiteness  of  the  steps  of  the  staircase, 
polished  with  pumice-stone.  A  first  landing  led  to 
the  entresol.  The  door  to  the  living-quarters  was 
after  the  manner  of  the  street  door,  but  in  wood- 
work, 

"How  graceful!"  said  Cesarine.  "And  yet 
there  is  nothing  that  strikes  the  eye." 

"  Precisely,  Mademoiselle,  that  is  due  to  the 
exact  proportions  between  stylobata,  plinths,  cor- 
nices and  ornaments;  then  I  have  gilded  nothing, 
the  colors  are  subdued  and  present  no  striking 
tints." 

"  It  is  a  science,"  said  Cesarine. 

All  then  entered  the  ante-chamber,  which  was  in 
good  taste,  tesselated,  spacious,  and  simply  deco- 
rated. Then  came  a  salon  with  three  windows  on 
the  street,  in  white  and  red,  with  cornices  in  elegant 
profile,  with  fine  decorating,  in  which  there  was 
nothing  gaudy.  On  a  white  colonnaded  marble 
mantel  was  a  trimming  chosen  with  taste;  it  pre- 
sented nothing  ridiculous,  and  was  in  keeping  with 
the  other  details.  There  reigned,  in  fine,  that 
suave  harmony  which  artists  alone  know  how  to 
bring  about  by  following  a  system  of  decorating 
even  in  the  most  minute  accessories,  and  of  which 
middle-class  folk  are  ignorant,  but  which  surprises 
them.     The  light  of  twenty-four  candles  brought  out 


2l8  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

the  splendor  of  the  red  silk  draperies,  the  floor  had 
an  alluring  appearance  that  moved  Cesarine  to 
dance.  A  green  and  white  boudoir  led  into  Cesar's 
ofifice. 

"1  have  put  a  bed  there,"  said  Grindot  as  he 
opened  the  doors  of  an  alcove  skilfully  concealed 
between  two  book-cases.  "  You  or  madame  may 
be  sick,  and  then  each  has  a  separate  room." 

"  But  this  library  furnished  with  bound  books — 
Oh!  wife!  wife!"  said  Cesar. 

"  No,  this  is  Cesarine's  surprise." 

"Pardon  a  father's  emotion,"  said  he  to  the 
architect  as  he  embraced  his  daughter. 

"  But  do  it,  do  it,  then,  sir,"  said  Grindot,  "  you 
are  at  home." 

In  this  office  prevailed  brown  colors,  relieved  by 
green  embellishment,  for  the  most  skilfully  handled 
transitions  of  harmony  connected  all  the  parts  of  the 
tenement  with  one  another.  Thus  the  color  that 
formed  the  main  feature  of  one  room  served  as  the 
accessory  to  the  other,  and  vice  versa.  The  en- 
graving of  Hero  and  Leander  was  displayed  on  a 
panel  in  Cesar's  office. 

"You,  you  will  pay  for  all  that,"  said  Birotteau 
gaily. 

"This  beautiful  print  has  been  given  to  you  by 
Monsieur  Anselme,"  said  Cesarine. 

Anselme  also  had  allowed  himself  a  surprise. 

"Poor  boy,  he  did  as  I  did  for  Monsieur  Vauquelin." 

Madame  Birotteau's  room  came  next.  There  the 
architect  had  displayed  magnificence  of  a  nature  to 


IN  HIS  GLORY  219 

please  the  good  people  whom  he  wished  to  inveigle, 
for  he  had  kept  his  word  while  studying  this  restora- 
tion. The  room  was  hung  with  blue  silk,  with 
white  ornaments;  the  furniture  was  in  white  cash- 
mere with  blue  accessories.  On  the  mantel-piece, 
of  white  marble,  the  clock  represented  Venus  set 
on  a  fine  block  of  marble;  a  pretty  moquette  carpet, 
of  a  Turkish  pattern,  connected  this  room  with 
Cesarine's,  which  was  hung  in  chintz  and  very 
coquettish:  a  piano,  a  pretty  glass  closet,  a  neat 
little  bed  with  simple  curtains,  and  all  the  little 
articles  of  furniture  that  young  persons  like.  The 
dining-room  was  behind  Birotteau's  room  and  that 
of  his  wife;  it  was  entered  from  the  stairway;  it  had 
been  treated  in  the  style  called  Louis  XIV.  with  a 
Boulle  clock,  buffets  of  copper  and  tortoise-shell,  the 
walls  hung  with  stuff  with  gilt  nails.  The  joy  these 
three  persons  felt  cannot  be  described,  especially 
when,  on  returning  to  her  room,  Madame  Birotteau 
found  on  her  bed  the  cherry  velvet  dress  trimmed 
with  lace,  given  to  her  by  her  husband,  and  which 
Virginie  had  brought  thither  and  then  went  away  on 
tiptoe. 

"  These  rooms  are  decidedly  creditable  to  you, 
sir,"  said  Constance  to  Grindot.  "We  will  have 
over  a  hundred  persons  to-morrow  evening,  and  you 
will  receive  praise  from  every  one  of  them." 

"  1  will  recommend  you,"  said  Cesar.  "  You  will 
see  the  cream  of  trade,  and  you  will  become  better 
known  in  a  single  evening  than  if  you  had  built  a 
hundred  houses." 


220  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

Constance  was  so  moved  that  she  no  longer 
thought  of  expense  or  of  criticising  her  husband. 
This  is  why.  In  the  morning,  while  bringing  Hero 
and  Leander,  Anseime  Popinot,  to  whom  Constance 
credited  a  high  degree  of  intelligence  and  fertile 
resources,  had  assured  her  of  the  success  of  the 
Cephalic  Oil,  on  which  he  was  working  with  unex- 
ampled zeal.  The  lover  had  promised  that,  in  spite 
of  the  great  cost  of  Birotteau's  whims,  in  six  months 
the  expenses  would  be  covered  by  his  share  in  the 
profits  derived  from  the  oil.  After  having  been  in 
trepidation  for  nineteen  years,  it  was  so  sweet  to 
yield  to  even  a  single  day's  pleasure  that  Constance 
promised  her  daughter  not  to  mar  her  husband's 
happiness  by  any  reflection,  and  to  let  him  enter 
into  it  heart  and  soul.  When,  about  eleven  o'clock. 
Monsieur  Grindot  left  them,  she  accordingly  threw 
herself  on  her  husband's  neck  and  shed  some  tears 
of  satisfaction,  saying: 

"Oh!  Cesar,  you  make  me  quite  silly  and  very 
happy." 

"  Provided  it  lasts,  is  it  not?"  said  Cesar,  smiling. 

"  it  will  last,  I  have  no  more  fear,"  said  Madame 
Birotteau. 

"it  is  time,"  said  the  perfumer,  "but  at  last 
you  appreciate  me." 

People  who  are  big  enough  to  recognize  their 
weaknesses  will  acknowledge  that  a  poor  orphan  who, 
eighteen  years  before,  was  head  saleswoman  at  the 
Petit  Matelot,  on  the  He  Saint-Louis,  that  a  poor 
peasant  who  had  come  from  Touraine  to  Paris  with 


IN   HIS  GLORY  221 

a  cudgel  in  his  hand,  on  foot,  in  hobnailed  shoes, 
ought  to  be  flattered,  happy  at  giving  such  a  feast 
for  such  praiseworthy  motives. 

"  My  God,  I  would  give  at  least  a  hundred  francs," 
said  Cesar,  "  for  one  visit  to  be  made  to  us." 

"  Here  comes  the  Abbe  Loraux,"  said  Virginie. 

The  Abbe  Loraux  made  his  appearance.  This 
priest  was  then  curate  at  Saint-Sulpice.  Never  was 
soul  power  better  revealed  than  in  this  holy  priest, 
intercourse  with  whom  left  profound  impressions  in 
the  memory  of  all  who  knew  him.  His  sullen 
countenance,  so  ugly  as  to  repel  confidence,  had 
been  rendered  sublime  by  the  exercise  of  Catholic 
virtues;  there  shone  upon  it  in  anticipation  a  celestial 
splendor.  A  candor  infused  into  his  blood  kept  his 
ungracious  traits  within  bounds,  and  the  fire  of 
charity  purified  his  irregular  lines  by  a  phenomenon 
the  contrary  of  that  which,  in  Claparon,  had  ani- 
malized  and  degraded  everything.  In  his  wrinkles 
played  the  graces  of  the  three  beautiful  human 
virtues,  faith,  hope  and  charity.  He  was  mild,  slow 
and  penetrating  of  speech.  His  costume  was  that 
of  the  Parisian  priests;  he  allowed  himself  to  wear  a 
chestnut-brown  overcoat.  No  ambition  had  stolen 
its  way  into  this  pure  heart,  which  the  angels  must 
have  borne  to  God  in  its  primitive  innocence.  The 
mild  violence  of  the  daughter  of  Louis  XVL  would  be 
needed  to  make  the  Abbe  Loraux  accept  even  the 
poorest  Paris  parish.  He  looked  with  a  restless  eye 
at  all  this  magnificence,  smiled  at  those  three  dealers 
who  were  delighted,  and  shook  his  whitened  head. 


222  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

"My  children,"  he  said  to  them,  "my  part  is  not 
to  attend  feasts,  but  to  console  the  afflicted.  I  have 
come  to  thank  Monsieur  Cesar,  to  congratulate  you. 
I  wish  to  come  here  only  to  a  single  feast,  to  this 
beautiful  girl's  wedding." 

After  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  Abbe  retired  with- 
out either  the  perfumer  or  his  wife  daring  to  show 
him  the  rooms.  This  grave  apparition  threw  some 
cold  water  on  Cesar's  ebullition  of  joy.  Each  one 
lay  down  amid  his  or  her  splendor,  taking  possession 
of  the  fine  and  pretty  little  articles  of  furniture  that 
each  had  wished  for.  Cesarine  disrobed  her  mother 
before  a  dressing-table  of  white  marble  supporting  a 
mirror.  Cesar  had  provided  for  himself  some  super- 
fluities that  he  wanted  to  use  immediately.  All 
went  to  sleep  picturing  to  themselves  in  advance 
the  joys  of  the  morrow.  After  having  gone  to  Mass 
and  read  the  Vesper  service,  Cesarine  and  her 
mother  dressed  at  four  o'clock,  having  previously 
turned  over  the  entresol  to  the  profane  uses  of 
Chevet's  people.  Never  had  toilet  been  more  be- 
coming to  Madame  Cesar  than  that  cherry  velvet 
dress,  trimmed  with  lace,  with  short  jockey  sleeves; 
her  fme  arms,  still  fresh  and  young,  her  shining 
white  breast,  her  neck,  her  shoulders  so  prettily 
shaped,  were  enhanced  by  this  rich  stuff  and  by 
this  magnificent  color.  The  unaffected  satisfac- 
tion that  every  woman  feels  on  seeing  herself  in 
all  her  glory  gave  an  indescribable  suavity  to  the 
Greek  profile  of  the  perfumer's  wife,  whose  beauty 
appeared  in  all  its  cameo  fineness.    Cesarine,  dressed 


IN   HIS  GLORY  223 

in  white  crape,  had  a  crown  of  white  roses  on  her 
head,  a  rose  at  her  side ;  a  scarf  chastely  covered 
her  shoulders  and  bust;  she  made  Popinot  crazy. 

"Those  people  overwhelm  us,"  said  Madame 
Roguin  to  her  husband,  as  she  crossed  the  rooms. 

The  notary's  wife  was  furious  at  not  being  as 
pretty  as  Madame  Cesar,  for  every  woman  always 
i<nows  in  her  heart  in  what  way  to  regard  superi- 
ority or  inferiority  in  a  rival. 

"Bah!  that  will  not  last  a  great  while;  ere  long 
you  will  despise  the  poor  woman  when  meeting  her 
on  foot  in  the  street,  ruined!"  said  Roguin  in  an 
undertone  to  his  wife. 

Vauquelin  was  perfectly  gracious;  he  came  along 
with  Monsieur  de  Lacepede,  his  colleague  at  the 
histitute,  who  had  gone  to  take  him  in  his  carriage. 
On  seeing  the  resplendent  wife  of  the  perfumer, 
the  two  scholars  fell  into  scientific  compliments. 

"You,  madame,  have  a  secret  that  science  is 
ignorant  of,  to  remain  so  young  and  beautiful,"  said 
the  chemist. 

"You  are  somewhat  at  home  here,  Professor," 
said  Birotteau.  "Yes,  Count,"  he  continued,  turn- 
ing to  the  Grand  Chancellor  of  the  Legion  of 
Honor,  "I  owe  my  fortune  to  Monsieur  Vauquelin. 
I  have  the  honor  to  present  to  Your  Lordship  the 
president  of  the  Tribunal  of  Commerce.  This  is  the 
Comte  de  Lacepede,  Peer  of  France,  one  of  the 
great  men  of  France;  he  has  written  forty  volumes," 
said  he  to  Joseph  Lebas,  who  accompanied  the 
president  of  the  court. 


224  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 


The  guests  were  on  time.  The  dinner  was  what 
tradespeople's  dinners  are,  extremely  gay,  full  of 
good  nature,  punctuated  with  coarse  pleasantries 
that  always  excite  laughter.  The  excellence  of  the 
courses,  the  good  quality  of  the  wine,  were  well 
appreciated.  When  the  company  went  back  to  the 
salon  to  partake  of  coffee,  it  was  half-past  nine. 
Some  hacks  had  brought  impatient  lady  dancers. 
An  hour  later  the  salon  was  full,  and  the  ball 
assumed  an  air  of  festivity.  Monsieur  de  Lacepede 
and  Monsieur  Vauquelin  took  their  leave,  to  Birot- 
teau's  great  disappointment,  for  he  followed  them  as 
far  as  the  stairway,  entreating  them  to  remain,  but 
to  no  purpose.  He  succeeded  in  keeping  Judge 
Popinot  and  Monsieur  de  la  Billardiere.  With  the 
exception  of  three  women  who  represented  the  aris- 
tocracy, finance  and  the  administration:  Mademoiselle 
de  Fontaine,  Madame  Jules,  and  Madame  Rabourdin, 
and  whose  decided  beauty,  get-up  and  manners 
were  conspicuous  in  the  midst  of  that  assembly,  the 
women  presented  to  the  eye  dull,  solid  toilets,  that 
indescribable  substantiality  which  gives  to  the  mid- 
dle-class masses  a  common  appearance,  which  the 
ease  and  grace  of  those  three  women  brought  into 
painful  prominence. 

The  middle-class  of  the  Rue  Saint-Denis  made  a 
majestic  display  by  showing  themselves  in  all  the 
plenitude  of  their  rights  of  buffoon  stupidity.  It  was 
indeed  that  middle-class  that  clothes  its  children  as 
lancers  and  National  Guards,  that  buys  Victories  and 
Conquests,  The  Laborer  turned  Soldier,  admires  The 


IN  HIS  GLORY  22$ 

Poor  Man's  Funeral,  enjoys  itself  on  guard  day,  goes 
on  Sunday  to  a  country  house  by  itself,  is  anxious 
to  have  the  appearance  of  distinction,  and  dreams  of 
municipal  honors;  that  middle-class  jealous  of  every- 
thing, and  yet  good,  obliging,  devoted,  sensible, 
compassionate,  subscribing  for  General  Foy's  chil- 
dren, for  the  Greeks  whose  piracies  are  unknown 
to  them,  for  the  Champ-d'Asile  at  a  time  when  it 
is  no  longer  in  existence,  duped  by  its  virtues  and 
cuffed  for  its  defects  by  a  society  that  is  not  worthy 
of  it,  for  it  is  kind-hearted  precisely  because  it  is 
ignorant  of  the  proprieties;  that  virtuous  middle-class 
that  rears  daughters  broken  to  work,  full  of  qualities 
that  contact  with  the  higher  classes  diminishes  as 
soon  as  it  launches  them  into  it,  those  girls  without 
intellect,  from  among  whom  the  good-natured  Chrys- 
alus  would  have  taken  his  wife;  finally,  a  middle- 
class  admirably  represented  by  the  Matifats,  the 
druggists  of  the  Rue  des  Lombards,  whose  house 
had  supplied  La  Reine  des  Roses  for  sixty  years  past. 
Madame  Matifat,  who  wanted  to  assume  a  dignified 
air,  danced  with  her  head  covered  by  a  turban  and 
wearing  a  dull  red-poppy  dress  with  gold-leaves, 
a  toilet  in  harmony  with  a  proud  bearing,  a  Roman 
nose  and  the  splendors  of  a  crimson  complexion. 
Monsieur  Matifat,  so  superb  at  a  National  Guard 
review,  where,  fifty  yards  away,  one  could  see  his 
rotund  paunch,  on  which  hung  his  chain  and  packet 
of  gewgaws,  was  ruled  by  that  Catherine  II.  of  the 
counting-room.  Stout  and  short,  harnessed  with 
barnacles,  wearing  his  shirt  collar  as  high  as  the 
15 


226  CESAR    BIROTTEAU 

base  of  his  skull,  he  attracted  attention  by  his  tenor 
voice  and  the  richness  of  his  vocabulary.  Never 
did  he  say  Corneille,  but  "the  sublime  Corncille." 
Racine  was  "the  sweet  Racine."  Voltaire!  oh! 
Voltaire,  "the  second  in  all  lines,  more  wit  than 
genius,  but  yet  a  man  of  genius!"  Rousseau,  "a 
skittish  mind,  a  man  filled  with  pride  and  who  ended 
by  hanging  himself."  He  told  in  a  dull  way  vulgar 
anecdotes  about  Piron,  who  passes  for  a  wonderful 
man  among  the  middle-classes.  Matifat,  enthusiastic 
over  actresses,  had  a  slight  tendency  to  obscenity; 
it  was  even  said  that,  in  imitation  of  the  good-natured 
Cardot  and  the  rich  Camusot,  he  kept  a  mistress. 
Sometimes  Madame  Matifat,  on  observing  that  he 
was  about  to  tell  some  anecdote,  lost  no  time  in 
interrupting  him  with  a  head-splitting  shout:  "Fatty, 
be  careful  about  what  you  are  going  to  tell  us."  She 
called  him  familiarly  her  fatty.  This  bulky  queen 
of  drugs  made  Mademoiselle  de  Fontaine  lose  her 
aristocratic  countenance;  the  proud  girl  could  not 
refrain  from  smiling  on  hearing  her  say  to  Matifat: 

"  Don't  run  against  the  glass,  fatty;  it  is  bad 
form." 

It  is  harder  to  explain  the  difference  that  dis- 
tinguishes the  upper  from  the  middle  class  than  it  is 
for  the  latter  to  overcome  it.  Those  women,  con- 
strained in  their  toilets,  knew  they  were  in  Sunday 
clothes  and  unwittingly  displayed  a  joy  which  proved 
that  the  ball  was  a  rarity  in  their  busy  life;  but  as 
the  three  women  who  represented  each  a  social 
sphere  were  then  as  they  were  to  be  on  the  morrow. 


IN   HIS  GLORY  227 

they  had  not  the  appearance  of  having  dressed 
expressly.  They  did  not  keep  thinking  of  themselves 
in  the  unaccustomed  marvels  of  their  get-up,  were 
not  disturbed  about  its  effect;  everything  had  been 
done  when,  in  front  of  their  glass,  they  had  given 
the  last  touch  to  the  work  of  their  ball  toilet.  Their 
figures  revealed  nothing  extraordinary,  they  danced 
with  grace  and  the  ease  that  unknown  geniuses 
have  given  to  certain  ancient  statues.  The  others, 
on  the  contrary,  marked  with  the  seal  of  work, 
kept  to  their  vulgar  pose  and  amused  themselves 
too  much;  their  looks  were  inconsiderately  curi- 
ous, their  voices  did  not  observe  that  light  murmur 
which  gives  inimitable  point  to  ball  conversations; 
especially  they  had  not  the  serious  impertinence 
that  contains  the  epigram  in  germ,  nor  that  easy 
attitude  by  which  people  are  recognized  who  are 
accustomed  to  keeping  great  control  over  them- 
selves. And  so  Madame  Rabourdin,  Madame  Jules 
and  Mademoiselle  de  Fontaine,  who  had  anticipated 
deriving  great  pleasure  from  this  perfumer's  ball, 
were  conspicuous  over  the  whole  middle  class  by 
their  soft  graces,  the  exquisite  taste  of  their  toilets, 
and  their  jest,  just  as  three  leading  figures  at  the 
Opera  are  distinguished  from  the  dull  hosts  of  the 
supers.  They  were  observed  by  a  stupid,  jealous 
eye.  Madame  Roguin,  Constance  and  Cesarine 
formed,  as  it  were,  a  bond  that  connected  the  figures 
of  trade  with  these  three  types  of  feminine  aris- 
tocracy. As  at  all  balls,  there  came  a  moment  of 
animation  when  the  torrents  of  light,  the  glee,  the 


228  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

music  and  the  warmth  of  the  dancing  caused  a 
giddiness  that  made  those  shades  disappear  in  the 
combined  crescendo.  The  ball  threatened  to  become 
noisy.  Mademoiselle  de  Fontaine  wished  to  retire; 
but  as  she  sought  the  venerable  Vendean's  arm, 
Birotteau,  his  wife  and  daughter  ran  to  prevent  the 
desertion  of  all  the  aristocracy  from  their  assemblage. 

"  These  rooms  display  an  air  of  good  taste  that 
really  astonishes  me,"  said  the  impertinent  girl  to 
the  perfumer,  "and  I  congratulate  you  on  it." 

Birotteau's  head  was  so  turned  by  the  public 
felicitations  that  he  did  not  understand;  but  his  wife 
blushed  and  knew  not  what  answer  to  make. 

"This  is  a  national  feast  that  does  you  honor," 
said  Camusot  to  him. 

"  I  have  seldom  seen  so  fine  a  ball,"  said  Monsieur 
de  la  Billardiere,  to  whom  an  officious  lie  cost 
nothing. 

Birotteau  took  all  the  compliments  seriously. 

"What  a  delightful  sight!  and  such  a  good 
orchestra!  Will  you  give  us  balls  often?"  said 
Madame  Lebas  to  him. 

"What  charming  rooms!  Your  own  taste?" 
Madame  Desmarets  said  to  him. 

Birotteau  risked  a  lie  by  leaving  her  to  believe 
that  it  was  he  who  directed  it.  Cesarine,  who  would 
be  invited  to  all  the  country-dances,  knew  how 
much  delicacy  there  wa^  in  Anselme. 

"  if  I  were  to  pay  attention  only  to  my  own 
wishes,"  he  whispered  in  her  ear  as  they  were 
leaving  table,   "I  would  beg  of   you  to  do  me  the 


IN  HIS   GLORY  229 

favor  of  a  country-dance;  but  my  happiness  would 
be  too  dearly  bought  at  the  price  of  our  mutual  self- 
respect." 

Cesarine,  who  found  that  men  walked  awk- 
wardly when  they  were  erect  on  their  limbs,  wanted 
to  open  the  ball  with  Popinot.  Popinot,  encouraged 
by  his  aunt,  who  had  told  him  to  make  the  attempt, 
made  bold  to  speak  of  his  love  to  that  charming  girl 
during  the  country-dance,  but  used  the  roundabout 
way  taken  by  timid  lovers. 

"My  fortune  depends  on  you.  Mademoiselle." 

"How  so?" 

"There  is  only  one  hope  that  can  urge  me  to 
make  it." 

"Hope,  then." 

"  Do  you  know  indeed  all  that  you  have  said  in  a 
single  word?"  Popinot  replied. 

"Hope  for  fortune,"  said  Cesarine,  with  a  mis- 
chievous smile. 

"Gaudissart!  Gaudissart!"  said  Anselme,  after 
the  country-dance,  to  his  friend,  as  he  pinched  his 
arm  with  Herculean  strength,  "succeed,  or  I  will 
blow  out  my  brains.  To  succeed  is  to  marry 
Cesarine.  She  has  told  me  so,  and  see  how  beautiful 
she  looks!" 

"Yes,  she  is  prettily  decked,"  said  Gaudissart, 
"  and  rich.     We  are  going  to  fry  her  in  the  oil." 

The  clear  understanding  between  Mademoiselle 
Lourdois  and  Alexandre  Crottat,  Roguin's  appointed 
successor,  was  remarked  by  Madame  Birotteau,  who 
did  not  without  a  keen  pang  give  up  the  idea  of 


230  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

making  her  daughter  the  wife  of  a  Paris  notary. 
Uncle  Pillerault,  who  had  exchanged  a  greeting 
with  little  Molineux,  went  to  settle  himself  in  an 
arm-chair  near  the  library:  he  looked  at  the  players, 
listened  to  the  conversation,  and  from  time  to  time 
went  to  the  door  to  see  the  baskets  of  flowers  that 
were  formed  by  the  lady  dancers  whirling  like  a 
hand-mill.  His  countenance  was  that  of  a  real 
philosopher.  The  men  were  frightful,  with  the 
exception  of  Du  Tillet,  who  already  had  fashionable 
manners;  of  young  la  Billardiere,  a  budding  youth  of 
fashion;  of  Monsieur  Jules  Desmarets  and  of  the 
official  personages.  But,  amid  all  the  more  or  less 
comical  figures  to  which  this  gathering  owed  its 
character,  there  was  one  particularly  effaced  like  a 
Republican  hundred  sou  piece,  but  whose  dress 
made  it  curious.  One  will  guess  it  is  the  petty 
tyrant  of  the  Cour  Batave,  decked  in  fine  linen  that 
had  turned  yellow  in  the  wardrobe,  showing  to  the 
eye  an  inherited  lace  frill  attached  by  a  pin  set  with 
a  bluish  cameo,  wearing  black  short  silk  breeches 
that  betrayed  the  spindle-shanks  on  which  they  had 
made  bold  to  rest.  Cesar  triumphantly  showed  him 
the  four  rooms  formed  by  the  architect  in  the 
second  story  of  his  house. 

"Eh!  ah!  that  is  your  business,  sir,"  said 
Molineux  to  him.  "My  second  so  finished  will  be 
worth  over  a  thousand  crowns." 

Birotteau  replied  with  a  pleasantry,  but  he  felt 
hurt,  as  if  stabbed  with  a  pin  by  the  tone  in  which 
the  little  old  man  had  uttered  this  expression.     "  I 


IN   HIS  GLORY  231 

will  soon  regain  possession  of  my  second;  this  man  is 
ruining  himself!"  Such  was  the  meaning  of  the 
words  will  be  worth  uttered  by  Molineux  with  a 
flourish. 

The  palish  figure,  the  cut-throat  eye  of  the  land- 
lord struck  Du  Tillet,  whose  attention  had  been  at 
first  excited  by  a  watch-chain  that  held  up  a  pound 
weight  of  various  sounding  trinkets,  and  by  a  coat  of 
green  mixed  with  white,  neck-wear  fantastically 
turned  up,  that  gave  to  the  old  man  the  appearance 
of  a  rattlesnake.  The  banker  came  then  to  ask  this 
little  usurer  by  what  chance  he  was  chuckling. 

"There,  sir,"  said  Molineux,  as  he  planted  one 
foot  in  the  boudoir,  "I  am  on  the  Count  de 
Granville's  property;  but  here,"  he  said,  showing 
the  other,  "  I  am  on  mine;  for  I  am  the  owner  of 
this  house." 

Molineux  was  so  complacent  to  the  listener  that, 
delighted  with  Du  Tillet's  air  of  attention,  he  struck 
an  attitude,  told  all  about  his  habits,  Sieur  Gendrin's 
insolence,  and  his  agreement  with  the  perfumer, 
without  which  the  ball  would  not  have  taken  place. 

"Ah!  Monsieur  Cesar  has  settled  his  rent  with 
you,"  said  Du  Tillet,  "  nothing  is  more  out  of 
keeping  with  his  habits." 

"Oh!  I  asked  it  of  him,  I  am  so  good  to  my 
tenants!" 

"If  old  man  Birotteau  fails,"  said  Du  Tillet  to 
himself,  "  this  funny  little  man  will  certainly  make 
an  excellent  master  in  equity.  His  punctiliousness 
is  most  valuable;    he  must,   like  Domitian,  amuse 


232  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

himself    with    killing  flies    in    the    solitude  of    his 
home." 

Du  Tillet  went  to  play  cards,  where  Claparon 
already  was  by  his  orders;  he  had  thought  that, 
behind  the  shade  of  a  lamp-flame,  his  semblance  of 
a  banker  would  escape  all  notice.  Their  manner 
towards  each  other  was  so  clearly  that  of  two 
strangers  that  the  most  suspicious  man  would  not 
have  been  able  to  detect  anything  that  could  reveal 
their  relations.  Gaudissart,  who  was  aware  of 
Claparon's  fortune,  dared  not  approach  him  when 
he  received  from  the  rich  former  traveling  agent  the 
solemnly  cold  look  of  an  upstart  who  does  not  want 
to  be  greeted  by  a  comrade.  This  ball,  like  a 
brilliant  rocket,  went  out  at  five  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  About  that  hour,  of  the  hundred  and 
some  odd  hacks  that  had  filled  the  Rue  Saint- 
Honore,  there  remained  about  forty.  At  that  hour 
they  were  dancing  La  Boulangere,  which  later  on 
made  way  for  the  cotillion  and  the  English  galop, 
Du  Tillet,  Roguin,  Cardot  junior,  the  Comte  de 
Granville  and  Jules  Desmarets  were  playing  bouil- 
lotte.  Du  Tillet  won  three  thousand  francs.  Day- 
light arrived,  made  the  candles  look  dim,  and  the 
players  were  taking  part  in  the  last  country-dance. 
In  those  middle-class  houses  this  supreme  enjoyment 
is  not  carried  out  without  some  enormities.  The 
imposing  personages  have  left;  the  giddiness  of 
movement,  the  communicative  heat  of  the  atmos- 
phere, the  spirits  concealed  in  the  most  innocent 
beverages  have  softened  the  callousness  of  the  old 


IN  HIS  GLORY  233 

women,  who,  from  complaisance,  take  part  in  the 
quadrilles  and  lend  themselves  to  a  momentary 
folly;  the  men  are  heated,  their  disordered  hair 
hangs  down  over  their  faces  and  gives  them  a  gro- 
tesque expression  that  provokes  mirth;  the  young 
women  become  frivolous,  some  of  the  flowers  have 
fallen  from  their  hair.  The  middle-class  Momus 
appears  followed  by  his  maskers!  Laughter  breaks 
out,  each  one  indulges  in  pleasantry,  thinking  that 
on  the  morrow  work  will  reassert  its  rights.  Mati- 
fat  was  dancing  with  a  woman's  bonnet  on  his  head; 
Celestin  gave  himself  up  to  sallies.  Some  ladies 
clapped  their  hands  inordinately  when  the  figure  of 
that  interminable  country-dance  was  made  up. 

"How  they  are  enjoying  themselves,"  said  the 
happy  Birotteau. 

"Provided  they  break  nothing,"  said  Constance 
to  her  uncle. 

"You  have  given  the  most  magnificent  ball  that 
1  have  ever  seen,  and  I  have  seen  many,"  said  Du 
Tillet  to  his  old  employer,  as  he  saluted  him. 

In  the  work  of  Beethoven's  eight  symphonies 
there  is  a  phantasie,  grand  as  a  poem,  that  dominates 
the  finale  of  the  symphony  in  C  minor.  When, 
after  the  slow  preparations  of  the  sublime  magician 
so  well  understood  by  Habeneck,  a  gesture  of  the 
enthusiastic  leader  of  the  orchestra  lifts  the  rich 
curtain  of  this  decoration,  calling  up  with  his  baton 
the  sparkling  motif,  towards  which  all  the  powers 
of  music  have  converged,  the  poets  whose  hearts 
palpitate    then    understand    that    Birotteau's    ball 


2  34  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

produced  in  his  life  the  effect  impressed  on  their  souls 
by  that  fruitful  motif,  to  which  the  symphony  in  C 
perhaps  owes  its  supremacy  over  its  brilliant  sisters. 
A  radiant  fairy  bounds  forth  raising  its  wand.  One 
hears  the  rustling  of  the  purple  silk  curtains  that 
angels  raise.  Golden  gates  sculptured  like  those  of 
the  baptistry  of  Florence  turn  on  their  diamond 
hinges.  The  eye  is  ingulfed  in  splendid  views, 
it  takes  in  a  range  of  marvelous  palaces  whence 
issue  beings  of  a  superior  nature.  The  incense  of 
prosperity  fumes,  the  altar  of  happiness  is  lit  up,  a 
perfumed  atmosphere  is  around!  Beings  with  a 
divine  smile,  clad  in  white  tunics  fringed  with  blue, 
pass  lightly  before  your  eyes,  showing  you  forms  of 
superhuman  beauty,  of  infinite  delicacy.  The 
Loves  skip  about,  scattering  the  flames  of  their 
torches!  You  feel  yourself  loved,  you  are  happy 
with  a  happiness  which  you  breathe  without  under- 
standing it  while  bathing  in  the  waves  of  this  har- 
mony that  ripples  and  pours  out  to  each  one  the 
ambrosia  that  each  selects.  You  are  struck  to 
the  heart  in  your  secret  hopes  that  are  realized  for  a 
moment.  After  having  led  your  footsteps  through 
heaven,  the  enchanter,  by  the  profound  and  mys- 
terious transition  of  the  basses,  plunges  you  once 
more  into  the  marsh  of  cold  realities,  to  get  yourself 
out  of  them  when  he  has  made  you  thirsty  for  his 
divine  melodies,  and  when  your  soul  exclaims: 
"  Encore!"  The  psychical  history  of  the  most  brill- 
iant point  of  this  beautiful  fmale  is  that  of  the 
emotions  lavished  by  this  feast  on  Constance  and 


IN  HIS  GLORY  235 

Cesar.     Collinet   had   composed   on    his   flute   the 
finale  of  their  trade  symphony. 

Weary,  but  happy,  the  three  Birotteaus  slept  in 
the  morning  in  the  excitements  of  that  feast,  which, 
in  building,  repairs,  furnishings,  expenditures,  toilets 
and  library  reimbursed  by  Cesarine,  reached,  with- 
out Cesar  having  suspected  it,  sixty  thousand  francs. 
That  was  the  cost  of  the  fatal  red  ribbon  put  by  the 
king  in  a  perfumer's  buttonhole.  If  misfortune 
befell  Cesar  Birotteau,  this  foolish  expenditure  suf- 
ficed to  make  him  indictable  before  the  police  court. 
A  merchant  is  in  the  state  of  simple  bankruptcy  if 
he  incurs  expenses  that  are  deemed  excessive.  It 
is  perhaps  more  horrible  to  go  into  the  lowest  court 
on  account  of  silly  trifles  or  blunders  than  into  an 
assize  court  to  answer  for  a  great  fraud.  In  the 
estimation  of  some  people,  it  is  better  to  be  a 
criminal  than  a  dolt. 


CESAR  IN  THE  CLUTCHES  OF 
MISFORTUNE 


(237) 


CESAR  IN  MISFORTUNE 


« 


A  week  after  this  feast,  the  last  spark  of  the 
straw  fire  of  eighteen  years'  prosperity  was  about 
to  be  extinguished,  Cesar  looked  at  the  passers-by, 
through  his  shop  window,  thinking  of  the  extent  of 
his  business,  which  he  found  weighing  heavily  on 
him!  Until  then  everything  had  been  simple  in  his 
life;  he  was  manufacturing  and  selling,  or  buying  to 
sell  again.  To-day  the  matter  of  the  land,  his 
interest  in  the  house  of  A.  POPINOT  AND  COMPANY, 
the  paying  out  of  a  hundred  and  sixty  thousand 
francs  on  the  spot,  and  which  was  to  necessitate 
either  the  negotiating  of  notes,  that  would  dis- 
please his  wife,  or  unexpected  success  in  the  Popinot 
house,  frightened  this  poor  man  by  the  multiplicity 
of  ideas;  he  felt  he  had  more  irons  in  the  fire  than 
he  could  attend  to.  How  was  Anselme  steering  his 
barque? 

Birotteau  treated  Popinot  as  a  professor  of  rhetoric 
treats  a  pupil;  he  was  distrustful  of  his  ability,  and 
regretted  not  being  at  his  side.  The  kick  he  had 
given  him  to  make  him  hold  his  tongue  at  Vauqueiin's 
explains  the  distrust  with  which  the  young  merchant 
inspired  the  perfumer.  Birotteau  was  very  cautious 
not  to  let  his  wife,  his  daughter  or  his  clerk  see  into 

(239) 


240  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

his  affairs;  but  he  was  then,  as  it  were,  a  mere  boat- 
man on  the  Seine  to  whom,  perchance,  a  Minister 
might  have  entrusted  the  command  of  a  frigate. 
These  thoughts  formed  a  sort  of  haze  in  his  mind, 
by  no  means  fit  for  meditation,  and  he  remained 
standing,  trying  to  see  his  way  through  it.  At  that 
moment  there  appeared  in  the  street  a  figure  towards 
which  he  felt  a  violent  antipathy,  and  which  was 
that  of  his  second  landlord,  little  Molineux.  Every- 
body has  had  those  dreams  full  of  events  that 
represent  a  whole  lifetime,  and  in  which  often 
recurs  a  fantastic  being  entrusted  with  evil  com- 
missions, the  villain  of  the  play.  Molineux  seemed 
to  Birotteau  to  be  charged  by  chance  with  an 
analogous  part  in  his  life.  This  figure  had  grinned 
diabolically  when  the  feast  was  at  its  height,  regard- 
ing its  sumptuousness  with  a  hateful  eye.  On 
seeing  him  again  Cesar  remembered  so  much  the 
more  the  impressions  that  had  been  made  upon  him 
by  this  little  forbidding  fellow,  that  Molineux  made 
him  feel  a  fresh  aversion  on  showing  himself 
suddenly  in  the  midst  of  his  reveries. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  little  man,  in  his  atrociously 
soothing  voice,  "we  have  closed  up  affairs  so 
smartly  that  you  have  forgotten  to  approve  the 
writing  over  our  little  signatures." 

Birotteau  took  the  lease  to  correct  his  oversight. 
The  architect  entered,  saluted  the  perfumer  and 
turned  around  him  with  a  diplomatic  air. 

"  Sir,"  he  said,  at  last  in  his  ear,  "  you  know  how 
it  is  to  get  along  in  the  beginning  of  a  trade.    You  are 


IN  MISFORTUNE  24I 

satisfied  with  me,  you  will  oblige  me  very  much  by 
letting  me  have  my  honorarium." 

Birotteau,  who  had  already  emptied  his  pocket- 
book  and  got  rid  of  all  his  loose  change,  told  Celestin 
to  make  out  a  note  for  two  thousand  francs  at  three 
months,  and  to  prepare  a  receipt. 

"  1  was  very  glad  that  you  assumed  responsibility 
for  your  neighbor's  term,"  said  Molineux  in  a 
sullenly  bantering  tone.  "My  porter  has  come  to 
notify  me  this  morning  that  the  justice  of  the  peace 
has  attached  the  seals  in  consequence  of  that  man 
Cayron's  disappearance." 

"  Provided  that  I  am  not  squeezed  for  five 
thousand  francs!"  thought  Birotteau. 

"He  had  the  reputation  of  attending  to  his  busi- 
ness very  closely,"  said  Lourdois,  who  had  just 
come  in  to  leave  his  bill  with  the  perfumer. 

"A  man  in  trade  is  proof  against  reverses  only 
after  he  has  retired,"  said  little  Molineux  as  he 
folded  his  document  with  minute  regularity. 

The  architect  examined  this  little  old  man  with 
the  pleasure  that  every  artist  experiences  on  seeing 
a  caricature  that  confirms  his  opinion  regarding  the 
middle-class. 

"When  one  has  an  umbrella  over  his  head,  he 
generally  thinks  that  he  is  under  shelter,  if  it  rains," 
said  the  architect. 

Molineux  gave  much  more  attention  to  the  archi- 
tect's mustaches  and  imperial  than  to  his  figure  as 
he  looked  at  him,  and  he  despised  him  quite  as  much 
as  Monsieur  Grindot  despised  Molineux.  Then  he 
16 


242  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

remained  to  give  him  a  tip  as  he  went  out.  From 
the  habit  of  living  with  his  cats  Molineux  had  in  his 
manner  as  well  as  in  his  eye  something  of  the  feline 
nature. 

At  that  moment  Ragon  and  Pillerault  entered. 

"We  have  spoken  of  our  affair  to  the  judge," 
said  Ragon  in  Cesar's  ear:  "  he  pretends  that  in  a 
speculation  of  this  kind  we  should  have  a  receipt 
from  the  sellers  and  have  the  deeds  perfected,  so 
that  all  would  be  really  joint  owners — " 

"Ah!  you  are  engaged  in  the  Madeleine  matter?" 
said  Lourdois.  "  It  is  spoken  of,  there  will  be 
houses  to  build  there!" 

The  painter,  who  had  come  in  to  have  a  prompt 
settlement,  now  found  it  to  his  interest  not  to  press 
the  perfumer. 

"  I  will  let  you  off  with  my  bill  because  it  is  so 
near  the  end  of  the  year,"  he  whispered  in  Cesar's 
ear;  "I  don't  need  anything  now." 

"  Well,  what  ails  you,  Cesar.?"  asked  Pillerault, 
remarking  his  nephew's  surprise,  for  the  latter, 
stunned  by  the  amount  of  the  bill,  replied  neither  to 
Ragon  nor  to  Lourdois. 

"Oh!  a  trifle;  I  took  five  thousand  francs'  worth 
of  notes  from  the  umbrella-dealer,  my  neighbor,  and 
he  has  failed.  If  he  had  given  me  bad  goods  1  would 
have  been  gulled  like  a  simpleton." 

"  It's  a  long  time,  too,  since  I  told  you  so,"  Ragon 
exclaimed;  "  he  who  is  drowning  would  hang  on  to 
his  father's  leg  to  save  himself,  and  drown  him  too. 
I  have  seen  so  much  of  these  failures!  one  is  not  so 


IN  MISFORTUNE  243 

much  of  a  cheat  in  the  beginning  of  the  disaster,  but 
one  becomes  so  of  necessity." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Pillerault. 

"Ah!  if  ever  I  get  to  the  Chamber  of  Deputies, 
or  if  I  have  any  influence  in  the  Government — " 
said  Birotteau,  raising  himself  on  tiptoe  and  then 
failing  back  on  his  heels. 

"  What  will  you  do.?"  asked  Lourdois,  "for  you 
are  a  sensible  man." 

Molineux,  who  was  interested  in  every  discussion 
on  law,  remained  in  the  shop;  and,  as  attention  on 
the  part  of  others  makes  one  attentive,  Pillerault 
and  Ragon,  though  acquainted  with  Cesar's  views, 
listened  to  him,  however,  as  attentively  as  did  the 
three  strangers. 

"  I  would  have,"  said  the  perfumer,  "a  tribunal 
of  irremovable  judges  with  public  functions  judging 
in  criminal  matters.  After  a  hearing,  during  which 
a  judge  would  directly  perform  the  present  duties  of 
the  agent,  master  and  commissary  judge,  the  mer- 
chant would  be  declared  either  insolvent  with  the 
privilege  of  resuming  business,  or  bankrupt,  insol- 
vent and  privileged  to  resume,  he  would  be  obliged 
to  pay  all;  he  would  then  be  agent  for  his  property 
and  for  his  wife's,  for  his  rights  and  inheritance 
would  all  belong  to  his  creditors;  he  would,  however, 
carry  on  business  on  their  account  and  under  sur- 
veillance; in  fine,  he  would  continue  the  business, 
but  sign  for  others  thus:  So  and  so,  insolvent,  until 
he  had  paid  all.  The  bankrupt  would  be  condemned 
as  of  old  to  the  pillory  in  the  hall  of  the  Bourse, 


244  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

exposed  for  two  hours,  with  a  green  cap  on  his  head. 
His  goods,  those  of  his  wife,  and  their  rights  would 
be  turned  over  to  his  creditors,  and  he  would  be 
banished  from  the  kingdom." 

"  Trade  would  be  a  little  safer,"  said  Lourdois, 
"  and  one  would  look  twice  before  entering  into 
operations." 

"  The  present  law  is  not  carried  out,"  said  Cesar, 
exasperated.  "Out  of  every  hundred  merchants 
there  are  over  fifty  who  are  more  than  seventy-five 
per  cent  behind  in  their  business,  or  who  sell  their 
merchandise  twenty-five  per  cent  below  the  in- 
ventory price,  and  who  thus  ruin  trade." 

"The  gentleman  is  right,"  said  Molineux,  "the 
present  law  gives  too  much  latitude.  Either  absolute 
surrender  or  infamy  is  necessary." 

"The  deuce!"  said  Cesar,  "a  merchant,  in  the 
way  things  are,  is  going  to  become  a  patented  thief. 
With  his  signature  he  can  draw  upon  everybody's 
credit." 

"You  are  not  charitable.  Monsieur  Birotteau," 
said  Lourdois. 

"  He  is  right,"  said  old  Ragon. 

"All  those  who  fail  are  suspected,"  said  Cesar, 
exasperated  by  his  small  loss,  which  sounded  in  his 
ears  as  the  first  cry  of  the  whoop  in  those  of  a  stag. 

At  that  moment  the  steward  brought  Chevet's 
bill.  Then  a  messenger  from  Felix,  an  errand-boy 
from  the  Cafe  Foy,  and  Collinet's  clarinet  came 
with  the  statements  from  their  houses. 

"Rabelais'quarter  of  an  hour, "said  Ragon  smiling. 


IN  MISFORTUNE  245 

"Faith,  you  gave  a  fine  feast,"  said  Lourdois. 

"  I  am  engaged,"  said  Cesar  to  all  the  messengers, 
who  left  the  bills. 

"Monsieur  Grindot,"  said  Lourdois,  as  he  saw 
the  architect  folding  a  note  signed  by  Birotteau, 
"you  will  verify  and  indorse  my  statement;  there 
is  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  measure;  all  the  prices 
were  agreed  upon  by  you  in  Monsieur  Birotteau's 
name." 

Pillerault  looked  at  Lourdois  and  Grindot, 

"  Prices  agreed  upon  between  architect  and  con- 
tractor," said  the  uncle  in  the  nephew's  ear;  "you 
are  robbed." 

Grindot  left,  Molineux  followed  him  and  ap- 
proached him  with  a  mysterious  air. 

"  Sir,"  he  said  to  him,  "  you  have  heard  me,  but 
you  did  not  understand  me.  I  wish  you  an  um- 
brella." 

Grindot  was  seized  with  dread.  The  more  illegal 
a  profit  is,  the  more  the  man  holds  on  to  it;  the 
human  heart  is  so  constituted.  The  artist  had 
indeed  given  his  closest  attention  to  the  tenement, 
he  had  devoted  to  it  all  his  knowledge  and  his  time, 
and  he  was  in  it  for  ten  thousand  francs,  and  now 
he  found  himself  the  victim  of  his  own  devoted- 
ness;  the  contractors  had  little  difficulty  in  leading 
him  on.  The  irresistible  argument  and  the  well- 
understood  threat  of  doing  him  an  ill  service  by 
calumniating  him  were  still  less  potent  than  the 
remark  made  by  Lourdois  regarding  the  matter  of 
the   Madeleine   land:    Birotteau   did    not   count  on 


246  CESAR    BIROTTEAU 

building  a  single  house  there,  he  was  only  specu- 
lating in  the  price  of  land.  Architects  and  con- 
tractors are  to  one  another  as  an  author  and  the 
actors,  they  depend  on  one  another.  Grindot,  en- 
trusted by  Birotteau  with  stipulating  the  prices,  was 
for  these  tradesmen  and  against  the  middle-class 
man.  And  so  three  large  contractors,  Lourdois,  Chaf- 
faroux,  and  Thorein,  the  carpenter,  proclaimed  him 
one  of  those  good  young  men  with  whom  it  is  a  pleasure 
to  work.  Grindot  felt  that  the  bills  on  which  he  was 
to  get  a  commission  would  be  paid,  like  his  honora- 
rium, in  notes,  and  the  little  old  man  had  just  sug- 
gested a  doubt  to  him  as  to  their  payment.  Grindot 
was  going  to  be  pitiless,  after  the  manner  of  artists, 
the  most  cruel  folk  that  the  middle-class  have  to 
deal  with.  Before  the  end  of  December  Cesar  had 
sixty  thousand  francs'  worth  of  bills.  Felix,  the 
Cafe  Foy,  Tanrade  and  the  small  creditors  that  one 
ought  to  pay  cash  down,  had  sent  to  the  perfumer 
three  times.  In  trade  these  petty  things  do  more 
injury  than  a  misfortune,  they  give  warning  of  it. 
Known  losses  are  definite;  but  panic  knows  no 
bounds.  Birotteau  saw  his  cash-box  depleted.  Fear 
then  seized  upon  the  perfumer,  to  whom  such  a 
thing  had  never  happened  during  his  life  in  trade. 
Like  all  those  who  have  never  had  to  struggle  for  a 
long  time  against  hardship  and  who  are  weak,  this 
circumstance,  common  in  the  life  of  most  small 
dealers  in  Paris,  brought  trouble  into  Cesar's  brain. 
The  perfumer  gave  orders  to  Celestin  to  send  bills 
to  his  customers;  but  before  doing  so,  the  chief  clerk 


IN  MISFORTUNE  '  247 

had  this  unheard-of  order  repeated  to  him.  The 
clients,  a  noble  term  then  applied  by  retailers  to 
their  customers  and  which  Cesar  made  use  of  in 
spite  of  his  wife,  who  had  at  last  said  to  him:  "  Call 
them  as  you  will,  provided  they  pay!"  The  clients 
then  were  rich  persons  with  whom  there  never  had 
been  any  losses  to  endure,  who  paid  at  their  pleas- 
ure, and  who  had  often  owed  Cesar  fifty  or  sixty 
thousand  francs.  The  second  clerk  took  the  charge- 
book  and  began  to  copy  the  highest.  Cesar  was 
afraid  of  his  wife.  So  as  not  to  let  her  see  the 
dejection  into  which  he  had  been  cast  by  the  simoom 
of  misfortune,  he  wanted  to  go  out. 

"Good-day,  sir,"  said  Grindot,  as  he  entered 
with  that  easy  air  assumed  by  artists  when  they 
would  speak  of  interests  to  which  they  want  to 
appear  to  be  absolute  strangers.  "  I  cannot  find 
any  kind  of  money  for  your  paper;  I  am  obliged  to 
ask  you  to  exchange  it  with  me  for  cash.  I  am  a 
most  unfortunate  man  in  this  kind  of  business,  but 
I  have  not  spoken  to  the  usurers;  I  would  not  hawk 
your  signature  around,  I  know  enough  of  trade  to 
understand  that  it  would  be  to  depreciate  it;  it  is 
then  in  your  interest  to — " 

"  Sir,"  said  Birotteau,  stunned,  "  in  a  lower  tone, 
if  you  please;  you  surprise  me  strangely." 

Lourdois  entered. 

"Lourdois,"  said  Birotteau,  smilmg,  "do  you 
understand?" 

Birotteau  stopped.  The  poor  man  was  going  to 
beg  Lourdois  to  take  Grindot's  note,  joking  with  the 


248  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

architect  with  the  good  faith  of  a  merchant  sure  of 
himself;  but  he  perceived  a  cloud  on  Lourdois's 
brow,  and  trembled  for  his  imprudence.  This  inno- 
cent raillery  was  the  death-blow  to  a  suspected 
credit.  In  such  a  case  a  rich  merchant  takes  up  his 
note,  and  does  not  offer  it.  Birotteau  felt  his  head 
throb  as  if  he  had  been  looking  into  the  depth  of  a 
perpendicular  abyss. 

"My  dear  Monsieur  Birotteau,"  said  Lourdois, 
taking  him  to  the  lower  end  of  the  shop,  "  my  bill 
is  made  out,  adjusted  and  verified;  I  beg  of  you  to 
have  the  money  ready  for  me  to-morrow.  My 
daughter  is  going  to  marry  little  Crottat;  he  will 
need  money,  notaries  do  not  negotiate  for  nothing; 
besides,  no  one  has  ever  seen  my  signature." 

"Send  the  day  after  to-morrow,"  proudly  said 
Birotteau,  who  counted  on  the  payment  of  his  bills. 
"And  you  also,  sir,"  said  he  to  Grindot. 

"And  why  not  at  once.!""  the  architect  asked. 

"  I  have  to  pay  my  workmen  in  the  Faubourg," 
said  Cesar,  who  had  never  lied. 

He  took  his  hat  to  go  out  with  them;  but  the 
mason,  Thorein,  and  Chaffaroux  stopped  him  just 
as  he  was  shutting  the  door. 

"  Sir,"  said  Chaffaroux  to  him,  "  we  are  in  great 
need  of  money." 

"Well!  I  own  no  Peruvian  mines,"  said  Cesar 
impatiently,  who  went  away  briskly  to  about  a 
hundred  yards  from  them.  "There  is  something 
behind  all  that.  Cursed  ball!  Everybody  thinks 
you  have  millions.    Nevertheless,  Lourdois's  manner 


IN  MISFORTUNE  249 

was  not  natural,  he  thinks  there's  a  snake  in  the 
grass." 

He  walked  aimlessly  along  the  Rue  Saint-Honore, 
feeling  all  broken  up,  and  stumbled  against  Alex- 
andre at  a  street  corner,  as  a  ram,  or  as  a  mathe- 
matician absorbed  in  the  solution  of  a  problem  would 
have  run  up  against  another. 

"Ah!  sir,"  said  the  future  notary,  "a  question! 
Has  Roguin  given  your  four  hundred  thousand  francs 
to  Monsieur  Claparon?" 

"  The  matter  was  attended  to  in  your  presence. 
Monsieur  Claparon  has  given  me  no  receipt;  my 
notes  were  to — be  negotiated — Roguin  was  to  have 
given  him — my  two  hundred  and  forty  thousand 
francs  in  cash. — It  was  said  that  the  deeds  of  sale 
would  be  definitely  made  out. — Judge  Popinot  pre- 
tends— The  receipt! — But — why  this  question?" 

"  Why  can  1  put  such  a  question  to  you?  To 
know  if  your  two  hundred  and  forty  thousand  francs 
are  in  Claparon's  or  in  Roguin's  hands.  Roguin 
was  connected  with  you  for  such  a  long  time,  he 
might  out  of  delicacy  have  given  the  money  to 
Claparon,  and  how  nicely  you  would  escape  him! 
But  am  I  a  dunce!  he  has  carried  it  off  along  with 
Monsieur  Claparon's  money,  he  fortunately  had 
yet  sent  only  a  hundred  thousand  francs.  Roguin 
has  fled;  he  received  from  me  a  hundred  thousand 
francs  for  his  office,  and  I  have  no  receipt  for  it;  I  gave 
it  to  him  as  I  would  intrust  you  with  my  purse.  Your 
sellers  have  not  received  a  farthing,  they  have  just 
left  me.     The  money  that  you  borrowed  on  your 


250  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

land  existed  neither  for  you  nor  for  him  who  loaned 
it  to  you;  Roguin  had  got  away  with  it,  as  he  did 
with  your  hundred  thousand  francs — which  he — did 
not  have  for  a  long  time  past. — Thus  your  last 
hundred  thousand  francs  have  been  taken,  1  remem- 
ber having  gone  to  get  them  from  the  bank." 

Cesar's  pupils  dilated  so  much  out  of  all  measure 
that  he  no  longer  saw  anything  but  a  red  flame. 

"  Your  hundred  thousand  francs  at  the  bank,  my 
hundred  thousand  francs  for  his  office,  a  hundred 
thousand  francs  from  Monsieur  Claparon,  there  are 
three  hundred  thousand  francs  to  whistle  for,  with- 
out the  thefts  that  are  going  to  be  discovered," 
continued  the  young  notary.  "They  despair  of 
Madame  Roguin;  Monsieur  Du  Tillet  spent  the  night 
with  her.  Du  Tillet  escaped  him  nicely,  did  he! 
Roguin  tormented  him  for  a  month  in  order  to  drag 
him  into  this  business  of  the  land,  and  fortunately 
he  had  all  his  money  in  a  speculation  with  the 
Nucingen  house.  Roguin  wrote  a  terrible  letter  to 
his  wife!  I  have  just  read  it.  He  had  been  tam- 
pering with  his  clients'  money  for  five  years  past, 
and  why?  for  a  mistress,  the  Dutch  Beauty;  he 
gave  her  up  a  fortnight  before  he  skipped.  This 
spendthrift  was  left  without  a  farthing,  her  furniture 
has  been  sold,  she  had  signed  bills  of  exchange. 
In  order  to  escape  pursuit,  she  had  taken  refuge  in 
a  house  of  the  Palais  Royal,  where  she  was  assassi- 
nated yesterday  evening  by  a  captain.  God  soon 
punished  her,  who  undoubtedly  ate  up  Roguin's 
fortune.     There   are  women   to  whom    nothing   is 


IN  MISFORTUNE  251 

sacred;  to  eat  up  a  notary's  means!  Madame  Roguin 
will  have  no  means  but  the  interest  on  her  mort- 
gage, all  the  ruffian's  property  is  mortgaged  beyond 
its  value.  The  office  has  been  sold  for  three  hun- 
dred thousand  francs.  I  who  thought  I  was  making 
a  good  bargain,  and  who  began  by  paying  a  hundred 
thousand  francs  additional  for  the  practice,  have  no 
receipt;  there  are  items  of  expense  that  are  going  to 
eat  up  both  office  and  security;  the  creditors  will 
believe  that  I  am  his  accomplice  if  I  speak  of  my 
hundred  thousand  francs,  and  when  one  is  starting 
out  it  is  necessary  to  be  careful  of  one's  reputation. 
You  will  get  scarcely  thirty  per  cent.  And  to  have 
to  eat  such  soup  at  my  age!  A  man  of  fifty-nine 
to  keep  a  woman! — the  old  rogue!  Three  weeks 
ago  he  told  me  not  to  marry  Cesarine,  that  you 
would  soon  have  no  bread  to  eat,  the  monster!" 

Alexandre  might  have  spoken  for  a  long  time; 
Birotteau  was  standing  petrified.  So  many  phrases, 
so  many  blows  of  a  club.  He  no  longer  heard  but 
a  sound  of  funeral  bells,  just  as  he  had  begun  by 
seeing  only  the  fire  of  his  conflagration.  Alexandre 
Crottat,  who  thought  the  worthy  perfumer  was 
strong  and  capable,  was  frightened  at  his  paleness 
and  immobility.  Roguin's  successor  did  not  know 
that  the  notary  had  got  away  with  more  than 
Cesar's  fortune.  The  idea  of  suicide  at  once  passed 
through  this  deeply  religious  trader's  head.  Suicide 
is  in  such  case  a  means  of  flying  from  a  thousand 
deaths;  it  seems  logical  to  accept  only  one  of  them. 
Alexandre  Crottat  gave  his  arm  to  Cesar  and  wanted 


2  52  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

to  make  him  walk,  but  it  was  impossible:  his  legs 
failed  under  him  as  if  he  were  drunk. 

"What,  then,  is  the  matter  with  you?"  said 
Crottat.  "My  good  Monsieur  Cesar,  have  a  little 
courage!  It  is  not  a  man's  death!  Besides,  you 
will  recover  forty  thousand  francs;  your  lender  did 
not  have  that  sum,  it  has  not  been  delivered  to  you, 
there  is  reason  for  pleading  the  rescinding  of  the 
contract." 

"  My  ball,  my  Cross,  two  hundred  thousand  francs 
in  notes  on  the  place,  no  cash  on  hand. — The  Ragons, 
Pillerault. — And  my  wife  who  saw  clearly — !" 

A  shower  of  confused  words  that  called  up  masses 
of  overwhelming  ideas  and  of  unheard-of  sufferings 
fell  like  a  hail  shower  tearing  into  shreds  all  the 
flowers  of  the  garden  of  La  Reine  des  Roses. 

"  I  would  that  some  one  would  cut  off  my  head," 
Birotteau  said  at  last,  "  it  pains  me  so  much  by  its 
size,  it  serves  me  to  no  purpose — " 

"Poor  old  man  Birotteau!"  said  Alexandre,  "but 
you  are  then  in  danger?" 

"Danger!" 

"Well,  have  courage,  struggle." 

"Struggle!"  repeated  the  perfumer. 

"  Du  Tillet  was  your  clerk,  he  is  a  noble  fellow, 
he  will  assist  you." 

"  Du  Tillet?" 

"  Let  us  go,  come." 

"  My  God!  I  would  not  go  back  home  as  I  am," 
said  Birotteau.  "  You  who  are  my  friend,  if  there 
are  friends,  you  in  whom   I  have  been  interested 


IN  MISFORTUNE  253 

and  who  have  dined  at  my  house,  in  my  wife's 
name,  take  me  in  a  hack,  Xandrot;  come  with  me." 

The  notary-designate  with  much  difficulty  placed 
in  a  hack  the  inert  machine  that  bore  the  name  of 
Cesar. 

"Xandrot,"  said  the  perfumer  in  a  voice  troubled 
with  tears,  for  at  that  moment  the  tears  fell  from 
his  eyes  and  loosened  somewhat  the  iron  band  that 
encircled  his  skull,  "let  us  go  to  my  house.  Speak 
for  me  to  Celestin.  My  friend,  tell  him  there  is 
question  of  my  life  and  of  my  wife's  also.  Under 
no  pretext  let  any  one  prattle  about  Roguin's  dis- 
appearance. Call  Cesarine  down  and  entreat  her 
to  see  that  no  one  speaks  of  this  affair  to  her  mother. 
One  ought  to  be  distrustful  of  one's  best  friends, 
— Pillerault,  the  Ragons,  everybody — " 

The  change  in  Birotteau's  voice  keenly  struck 
Crottat,  who  understood  the  importance  of  this 
recommendation.  The  Rue  Saint-Honore  led  to  the 
magistrate's;  he  carried  out  the  perfumer's  inten- 
tions, and  Celestin  and  Cesarine  saw  the  victim 
with  affright,  voiceless,  pale,  and  as  if  stupefied, 
on  the  floor  of  the  hack. 

"Keep  my  secret  about  this  matter,"  said  the 
perfumer. 

"Ah!"  said  Xandrot  to  himself,  "he  is  reviving! 
I  was  afraid  he  was  done  for." 

The  conference  between  Alexandre  Crottat  and 
the  magistrate  lasted  a  long  time.  The  president  of 
the  board  of  notaries  was  sent  for.  Cesar  was 
carried  everywhere  like  a  parcel;  he  did  not  budge, 


254  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

and  said  not  a  word.  About  seven  o'clock  in  the 
evening  Alexandre  Crottat  brought  the  perfumer 
back  to  his  house.  The  idea  of  appearing  before 
Constance  restored  tone  to  Cesar.  The  young 
notary  was  so  charitable  as  to  precede  him  in  order 
to  tell  Madame  Birotteau  that  her  husband  had  had 
a  slight  attack  of  apoplexy. 

"He  has  his  ideas  mixed  up,"  he  said,  making  a 
gesture  used  to  represent  the  disturbing  of  the  brain ; 
"it  will  perhaps  be  necessary  to  bleed  or  leech 
him." 

"That  was  bound  to  come,"  said  Constance,  a 
thousand  leagues  from  suspecting  a  disaster.  "He 
has  not  taken  his  precautionary  medicine  at  the 
approach  of  winter,  and  for  the  last  two  months  he 
has  been  bringing  on  the  galley-slave  fever,  as  if 
his  bread  were  not  safe." 

Cesar  was  entreated  by  his.  wife  and  daughter 
to  go  to  bed,  and  they  sent  for  Doctor  Haudry, 
Birotteau's  physician.  Old  Haudry  was  a  physi- 
cian of  the  Moliere  school,  a  great  practitioner  and 
a  friend  of  the  old  formulas  of  the  dispensary,  drug- 
ging his  patients  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  med- 
icaster, consulting  physician  though  he  was.  He 
came,  studied  Cesar's  fades,  ordered  the  immediate 
application  of  mustard  plasters  to  the  soles  of  his 
feet:  he  saw  symptoms  of  cerebral  congestion. 

"What  could  have  caused  him  that?"  Constance 
asked. 

"The  humid  weather,"  replied  the  doctor,  to 
whom  Cesarine  came  to  say  a  word. 


IN  MISFORTUNE  255 

Doctors  are  often  obliged  to  talk  nonsense  in  a 
knowing  way  in  order  to  save  the  iionor  or  life  of 
persons  in  good  standing  who  are  around  the  patient. 
The  old  doctor  had  seen  so  many  things  that  he 
understood  a  hint.  Cesarine  followed  him  to  the 
stairway  and  asked  him  what  rules  of  conduct  to 
follow. 

"Quiet  and  silence.  Then  we  will  risk  strength- 
ening remedies  when  the  head  is  cleared." 

Madame  Cesar  spent  two  days  at  her  husband's 
bedside,  and  he  often  seemed  to  her  to  be  delirious. 
Put  in  his  wife's  fine  blue  room,  he  said  things  that 
Constance  did  not  comprehend,  at  the  sight  of  the 
draperies,  the  furniture  and  the  costly  magnificence. 

"He  is  wandering  in  his  mind,"  she  said  to 
Cesarine  at  a  moment  when  Cesar  got  into  a 
sitting  posture  and  in  a  solemn  voice  quoted  bits 
and  scraps  of  the  articles  of  the  code  of  commerce. 

"If  the  expenses  are  thought  excessive — Take 
away  the  draperies."  After  three  terrible  days, 
during  which  Cesar's  reason  was  in  danger,  the 
strong  nature  of  the  Touraine  peasant  triumphed, 
his  head  became  clear.  Doctor  Haudry  ordered,  him 
cordials  and  strong  nourishment,  and,  after  a  cup  of 
coffee  given  at  intervals,  the  merchant  was  on  his 
feet.     Constance,  fatigued,  took  her  husband's  place. 

"Poor  woman,"  said  Cesar,  when  he  saw  her 
asleep. 

"Come,  papa,  courage!  You  are  so  superior  a 
man  that  you  will  triumph.  It  will  not  amount  to 
anything.     Monsieur  Anselme  will  assist  you." 


256  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

Cesarine  spoke  in  a  mild  tone  these  vague  words, 
which  tenderness  made  still  milder,  and  which  give 
courage  to  the  most  abject,  as  a  mother's  song  lulls 
the  pains  of  a  child  who  is  tormented  with  teething. 

"Yes,  my  child,  I  am  going  to  struggle;  but  not  a 
word  to  anyone  in  the  world,  neither  to  Popinot, 
who  loves  us,  nor  to  your  uncle  Pillerault.  I  am 
going  first  to  write  to  my  brother:  he  is,  I  think, 
canon  and  curate  of  a  cathedral.  He  spends  nothing ; 
he  ought  to  have  money.  With  a  thousand  crowns 
a  year  saved,  for  twenty  years,  he  must  have  a 
hundred  thousand  francs.  In  the  provinces  priests 
have  credit." 

Cesarine,  eager  to  bring  her  father  a  small  table 
and  all  that  he  needed  to  write,  gave  him  what  were 
left  of  the  invitations  printed  on  rose  paper  for  the 
ball. 

"Burn  all  that!"  exclaimed  the  merchant.  "The 
devil  alone  must  have  inspired  me  to  give  that 
ball.  If  I  succumb,  I  will  have  the  appearance  of  a 
cheat.     Come,  no  phrases. " 

CESAR'S  LETTER  TO  FRANCOIS  BIROTTEAU. 

"MY  DEAR  BROTHER, 

"  1  find  myself  in  so  difficult  a  business  crisis  that  I  entreat 
you  to  send  me  ail  the  money  you  can  dispose  of,  even  should 
you  have  to  borrow  some. 

"  Entirely  yours, 

"Cesar. 
"  Your  niece,  Cesarine,  who  is  looking  at  me  writing  this 
letter  while  my  poor  wife  is  asleep,  desires  to  be  remembered 
to  you  and  sends  you  her  tenderest  greetings." 


IN   MISFORTUNE  257 

This  postscript  was  added  atCesarine's  entreaty, 
and  she  brought  the  letter  to  Raguet 

"Father,"  she  said  on  going  up  again,  "here  is 
Monsieur  Lebas,  who  wishes  to  speak  with  you," 

"Monsieur  Lebas!"  Cesar  exclaimed,  frightened 
as  if  his  disaster  had  made  him  a  criminal;  "a 
judge!" 

"My  dear  Monsieur  Birotteau,  I  take  too  much 
interest  in  you,"  said  the  big  draper  as  he  entered, 
"we  have  known  each  other  for  too  long  a  time,  we 
were  both  elected  judges  the  first  time  together,  not 
to  tell  you  that  one  Monsieur  Bidault,  called 
Gigonnet,  a  usurer,  has  notes  of  yours  passed  to  his 
order,  without  recourse,  by  the  Claparon  house. 
These  two  words  are  not  only  an  insult,  but  even 
the  death-blow  to  your  credit." 

"Monsieur  Claparon  desires  to  speak  with  you," 
said  Celestin,  showing  himself;  "shall  I  send  him 
up?" 

"We  are  going  to  know  the  cause  of  this  insult," 
said  Lebas. 

"Sir,"  said  the  perfumer  to  Claparon  on  seeing 
him  enter,  "this  is  Monsieur  Lebas,  judge  in  the 
Tribunal  of  Commerce,  and  my  friend — " 

"Ah!  the  gentleman  is  Monsieur  Lebas,"  said 
Claparon,  interrupting;"!  am  delighted  to  meet  you. 
Monsieur  Lebas  of  the  court — there  are  so  many 
Lebas,  without  counting  les  haiits  et  les  bas." 

"He  has,"  continued  Birotteau,  interrupting  the 
babbler,  "seen  the  notes  that  I  gave  to  you,  and 
that,    you    said,    would    not   get   into   circulation; 
17 


258  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

he  has  seen  them  with  these  words:    without  re- 
course.'' 

"Well,"  said  Claparon,  "they  will  not  indeed 
circulate — they  are  in  the  hands  of  a  man  with 
whom  1  am  doing  much  business,  old  man  Bidault 
That  is  why  1  have  marked  them  without  recourse. 
if  the  notes  had  had  to  circulate,  you  would 
have  drawn  them  to  his  order  directly.  The 
judge  will  understand  my  position.  What  do  these 
notes  represent?  a  real  estate  value;  paid  by 
whom?  by  Birotteau.  Why  do  you  think  that 
1  secure  Birotteau  with  my  signature?  We  ought 
to  pay,  each  on  our  own  part,  our  share  of  the  said 
price.  Now,  is  it  not  enough  to  be  bound  for  the 
whole  in  regard  to  our  sellers?  With  me  the  com- 
mercial rule  is  inflexible:  I  no  more  give  my  guar- 
antee uselessly  than  1  give  a  receipt  for  a  sum  to  be 
received.  1  suppose  everything.  Who  signs,  pays. 
I  do  not  wish  to  be  exposed  to  paying  thrice." 

"Thrice!"  exclaimed  Cesar. 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Claparon.  "Already  have 
I  guaranteed  Birotteau  to  our  sellers;  why  should 
I  guarantee  him  again  to  the  banker?  The  circum- 
stances in  which  we  are,  are  difficult.  Roguin  takes 
a  hundred  thousand  francs  from  me.  Thus,  already 
my  half  of  the  land  costs  me  five  hundred  thousand 
instead  of  four  hundred  thousand  francs.  Roguin 
takes  two  hundred  and  forty  thousand  francs  from 
Birotteau.  What  would  you  do  in  my  place,  Mon- 
sieur Lebas?  Stand  in  my  boots.  I  have  not  the 
honor  of  being  known  to   you,    any  more  than  I 


IN  MISFORTUNE  259 

know  Monsieur  Birotteau.  Pay  close  attention. 
We  are  doing  business  together  by  halves.  You 
put  up  all  the  money  on  your  part;  as  for  me,  1 
negotiate  mine  in  notes;  I  offer  them  to  you ;  you 
undertake,  from  excessive  complaisance,  to  convert 
them  into  cash.  You  learn  that  Claparon,  a  rich 
banker,  held  in  high  esteem— 1  accept  all  the  vir- 
tues of  the  world — that  the  virtuous  Claparon  is 
found  in  default  for  six  millions  that  he  has  to  reim- 
burse: will  you  go,  at  that  very  moment,  and  put 
your  signature  as  a  guarantee  to  mine?  You  would 
be  a  fool !  Well,  Monsieur  Lebas,  Birotteau  is  in 
the  fix  in  which  I  suppose  Claparon.  Do  you  not 
see  that  I  may  then  pay  the  purchasers  as  joint 
guarantor,  and  be  bound  still  farther  to  reimburse 
Birotteau's  part  to  the  amount  of  his  notes,  if  I 
guaranteed  them,  and  without  having — " 

"To  whom?"  asked  the  perfumer,  interrupting. 

"And  without  having  his  half  of  the  land,"  said 
Claparon,  taking  no  notice  of  the  interruption,  "for 
I  would  not  have  any  privilege;  it  would  be  neces- 
sary then  again  to  buy  it!  Thus  I  should  pay  three 
times." 

"To  reimburse  to  whom?"  still  asked  Birotteau. 

"Why  to  the  third  holder,  if  I  indorsed  and  some 
misfortune  befell  you." 

"1  will  not  fail,  sir,"  said  Birotteau. 

"Good,"  said  Claparon.  "You  have  been  judge, 
you  have  had  experience  in  business,  you  know 
that  one  ought  to  look  out  for  everything,  so  do  not 
be  astonished  that  I  carry  out  the  rules  of  my  trade. " 


260  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

"Monsieur  Claparon  is  right,"  said  Joseph 
Lebas, 

"1  am  right,"  continued  Claparon,  "right  com- 
mercially. But  this  affair  is  territorial.  Now,  what 
ought  I  to  receive,  I? — Money,  for  it  will  be  neces- 
sary to  give  money  to  our  sellers.  Let  us  leave 
aside  the  two  hundred  and  forty  thousand  francs 
that  Monsieur  Birotteau  will  put  up,  I  am  sure  of 
it,"  said  Claparon,  looking  at  Lebas.  "1  have  come 
to  ask  you  for  the  trifle  of  twenty-five  thousand 
francs,"  he  said,  looking  at  Birotteau. 

"Twenty-five  thousand  francs !"  exclaimed  Cesar 
as  he  felt  ice  instead  of  blood  in  his  veins.  "But, 
sir,  on  what  title.!*" 

"Eh!  my  dear  sir,  we  are  obliged  to  certify  the 
sale  before  a  notary.  Now,  as  regards  the  price, 
we  may  have  an  understanding  among  ourselves; 
but  with  the  treasury,  your  servant!  The  treasury 
does  not  trifle  by  speaking  idle  words;  it  only 
recognizes  prompt  cash  transactions,  and  we  have 
to  put  up  forty-four  thousand  francs  of  earnest  this 
week.  I  was  far  from  expecting  reproaches  on 
coming  here,  for,  thinking  that  these  twenty-five 
thousand  francs  might  pinch  you,  I  was  going  to  tell 
you  that,  by  the  luckiest  chance,  I  have  saved 
you — " 

"What?"  said  Birotteau,  in  a  tone  of  distress  by 
which  no  man  is  deceived. 

"A  misery!  the  twenty-five  thousand  francs  of 
odd  notes  that  Roguin  had  given  me  to  negotiate, 
I    have   credited   you  with   on   the  registry  and  a 


IN  MISFORTUNE  261 

statement  of  the  expense  of  which  I  will  send  you; 
there  is  the  small  charge  for  negotiating  to  be 
deducted;  you  will  owe  me  in  addition  six  or  seven 
thousand  francs." 

"All  that  seems  to  me  perfectly  just,"  said  Lebas. 
"In  the  gentleman's  place,  and  he  seems  to  me  to 
understand  business  very  clearly,  I  would  act  in  the 
same  manner  towards  a  stranger." 

"Monsieur  Birotteau  will  not  die  on  that  account, " 
said  Claparon ;  "more  than  one  blow  is  needed  to  kill 
an  old  wolf;  I  have  seen  wolves  with  bullets  in  their 
heads  running  like — and,  zounds,  like  wolves." 

"Who  can  foresee  a  dastardly  act  like  Roguin's.-"" 
said  Lebas,  as  much  frightened  at  Cesar's  silence 
as  at  such  an  enormous  speculation  entirely  foreign 
to  the  perfumery  business. 

"I  came  near  giving  a  receipt  for  four  hundred 
thousand  francs  to  the  gentleman,"  said  Claparon, 
"and  1  have  had  my  fingers  burnt.  I  had  remitted 
a  hundred  thousand  francs  to  Roguin  the  day  be- 
fore. Our  mutual  confidence  saved  me.  Whether 
the  money  was  in  his  office  or  at  my  house  until  the 
day  of  the  final  contracts,  seemed  to  all  of  us  a  mat- 
ter of  indifference." 

"It  would  have  been  better  had  each  kept  his 
money  in  the  bank  until  the  time  for  payment 
came,"  said  Lebas. 

"Roguin  was  the  bank  to  me,"  said  Cesar.  "But 
he  is  in  the  affair,"  he  continued,  looking  at  Clapa- 
ron. 

"Yes,  for  one  quarter,  on  word, "  replied  Claparon. 


262  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

"After  the  stupidity  of  letting  him  run  away  with 
my  money,  I  would  be  a  downright  fool  to  give 
him  any  of  it  If  he  sends  me  my  hundred  thous- 
and francs,  and  two  hundred  thousand  more  for  his 
part,  then  we  will  see!  But  he  will  take  good  care 
not  to  send  it  to  me  for  an  affair  that  requires  five 
years  of  boiling  before  giving  a  first  pottage.  If  he 
has  carried  off,  as  is  said,  only  three  hundred 
thousand  francs,  tie  will  clearly  need  fifteen  thousand 
francs  income  to  live  comfortably  abroad." 

"The  bandit!" 

"Well,  Mon  Dieu!  a  passion  led  Roguin  to  that," 
said  Claparon.  "Who  is  the  old  man  who  can 
answer  that  he  has  not  allowed  himself  to  be  domi- 
nated and  carried  away  by  his  last  fancy?  Not  one 
of  us,  who  are  wise,  knows  how  he  will  end.  A 
last  love,  eh!  is  the  most  violent.  Look  at  the 
Cardots,  the  Camusots,  the  Matifats — all  have  mis- 
tresses! And  if  we  are  victimized,  is  it  not  our 
own  fault?  How  is  it  we  were  not  distrustful  of  a 
notary  who  entered  into  a  speculation?  Every 
notary,  every  exchange  agent,  every  broker  so 
interesting  himself  in  an  affair,  is  to  be  suspected. 
Failure  is  for  them  fraudulent  bankruptcy.  They 
would  go  into  an  assize  court,  then  they  prefer  to  go 
into  a  foreign  land.  I  will  do  no  more  of  such 
schooling.  Well,  we  are  so  weak  as  not  to  have 
condemned  by  contumacy  people  to  whose  house  we 
have  gone  to  dinner,  who  have  given  us  fine  balls, 
people  of  the  world,  in  fine!  No  one  complains,  and 
more's  the  pity." 


IN  MISFORTUNE  263 

"Decidedly  wrong,"  said  Birotteau;  "the  law 
regarding  failure  and  insolvency  ought  to  be 
amended." 

"If  you  need  me,"  said  Lebas  to  Birotteau,  "1 
am  entirely  at  your  service." 

"The  gentleman  does  not  need  anybody,"  said 
the  indefatigable  babbler,  the  sluices  of  whose  elo- 
quence Du  Tillet  had  opened  after  having  filled 
him  with  the  needful  water. — Claparon  was  but 
repeating  a  lesson  that  had  been  most  carefully 
taught  him  by  Du  Tillet. — "His  affair  is  clear: 
Roguin's  failure  will  give  a  dividend  of  fifty  per  cent, 
according  to  what  little  Crottat  has  told  me.  Besides 
this  dividend.  Monsieur  Birotteau  recovers  forty 
thousand  francs  that  his  lender  did  not  have;  then, 
he  can  borrow  on  his  properties.  Now,  we  have  to 
pay  two  hundred  thousand  francs  to  our  sellers  only 
in  four  months.  From  this  time  until  then  Mon- 
sieur Birotteau  will  take  up  his  notes,  for  the  gen- 
tleman must  not  count  on  Monsieur  Roguin  having 
stolen  to  pay  them.  But,  even  should  Monsieur 
Birotteau  be  somewhat  pinched — well,  by  putting 
some  more  notes  in  circulation,  he  will  get  there." 

The  perfumer  regained  courage  on  hearing 
Claparon  analyze  his  affair  and  sum  it  up  by  tracing 
for  him,  so  to  say,  the  plan  for  him  to  follow.  And 
so  his  countenance  became  firm  and  decided,  and  he 
conceived  a  high  idea  of  the  resources  of  this  former 
traveler.  Du  Tillet  had  thought  it  proper  to  give 
out  that  he  was  Roguin's  victim  through  Claparon. 
He  had  sent  a  hundred  thousand  francs  to  Claparon 


264  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

to  give  to  Roguin,  who  had  given  the  money  back 
to  him.  Claparon,  restless  as  he  was,  played  his 
part  up  to  nature ;  he  told  anyone  that  wanted  to 
listen  to  him  that  Roguin  cost  him  a  hundred  thous- 
and francs.  Du  Tillet  had  not  regarded  Claparon 
as  quite  strong  enough ;  he  thought  he  still  had  too 
much  of  the  principles  of  honor  and  delicacy  to 
trust  to  him  his  plans  in  their  full  extent;  and, 
moreover,  he  knew  him  to  be  incapable  of  seeing 
through  him. 

"If  our  first  friend  is  not  our  first  dupe,  we  would 
not  find  a  second,"  he  said  to  Claparon  on  the  day 
when,  receiving  reproaches  from  his  commercial 
pander,  he  disposed  of  him  as  he  would  of  an  instru- 
ment that  was  played  out. 

Monsieur  Lebas  and  Claparon  left  together. 

"I  can  get  out  of  it,"  said  Birotteau  to  himself. 
"My  debts  in  notes  to  be  paid  amount  to  two 
hundred  and  thirty-five  thousand  francs,  namely: 
sixty  thousand  francs  for  my  house,  and  seventy- 
five  thousand  francs  for  the  land.  Now,  to  meet 
these  payments,  I  have  the  Roguin  dividend,  which 
perhaps  will  be  a  hundred  thousand  francs,  I  can 
have  the  loan  on  my  land  annulled,  in  all  a  hun- 
dred and  forty.  There  is  a  chance  of  making  a 
hundred  thousand  francs  on  the  Cephalic  Oil,  and 
of  getting,  with  some  accommodation  notes  or  a  loan 
from  a  banker,  time  for  me  to  make  up  the  loss  and 
wait  for  the  land  to  reach  its  highest  value." 


1H'. 


Once  a  man,  when  in  misfortune,  can  build  up 
for  himself  a  romance  of  hopes  out  of  a  succession 
of  reasonings  more  or  less  correct,  with  which  he 
stuffs  his  pillow  so  as  to  rest  his  head  upon  it,  he 
is  often  saved.  Many  people  have  taken  for  energy 
the  confidence  that  illusion  gives.  Perhaps  hope  is 
half  of  courage,  and  so  the  Catholic  religion  has 
made  a  virtue  of  it.  Has  not  hope  sustained  many 
weaklings,  by  giving  them  time  to  await  life's 
chances  ?  Having  resolved  to  go  to  his  wife's  uncle's 
house  to  explain  his  position  before  looking  for 
assistance  elsewhere,  Birotteau  did  not  go  down 
the  Rue  Saint-Honore  as  far  as  the  Rue  des  Bour- 
donnais  without  experiencing  secret  pangs  of  an- 
guish that  agitated  him  so  violently  that  he  thought 
his  health  was  impaired.  He  was  feverish  in  his 
entrails.  Indeed,  people  who  feel  through  the  dia- 
phragm suffer  there,  just  as  people  who  perceive 
through  the  head  experience  cerebral  pains.  In 
great  crises  the  physical  being  is  attacked  just 
where  the  temperament  has  put  the  individual's 
seat  of  life:  the  weak  have  the  colic,  Napoleon 
sleeps.  Before  mounting  to  the  assault  of  a  con- 
fidence by  passing  over  all  the  barriers  of  pride, 
people  of  honor  must  have  felt  more  than  once  in 
their  heart  the  spur  of  necessity,  that  unrelenting 
escort!  And  so  Birotteau  had  allowed  himself  to  be 

(265j 


266  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

spurred  on  for  two  days  before  going  to  his  uncle's; 
he  even  came  to  a  decision  only  for  family  reasons: 
in  any  state  of  the  case  he  should  have  explained 
his  situation  to  the  hard-headed  iron  and  copper- 
ware  dealer.  Nevertheless,  on  arriving  at  the  door, 
he  felt  that  inner  weakness  which  every  child  has 
experienced  on  entering  a  dentist's  office;  but  this 
weakness  of  heart  affected  his  whole  being  instead 
of  causing  only  a  passing  pain.  Birotteau  ascended 
slowly.  He  found  the  old  man  reading  the  Consti- 
tutionnel  in  the  chimney  corner,  before  the  little 
round  table  on  which  was  his  frugal  breakfast:  a 
small  loaf,  butter,  Brie  cheese  and  a  cup  of  coffee. 

"There  is  a  really  wise  man,"  said  Birotteau, 
envying  his  uncle's  life. 

"Well,"  said  Pillerault  to  him  as  he  took  off  his 
goggles,  "I  learned  yesterday  at  the  Cafe  David  of 
the  Roguin  affair,  the  assassination  of  the  Dutch 
Beauty,  his  mistress!  I  hope  that,  warned  by  us 
who  wished  to  be  real  owners,  you  have  gone  to  get 
a  receipt  from  Claparon." 

"Alas!  uncle,  everything  is  there;  you  have  put 
your  finger  on  the  sore  spot.     No." 

"Ah!  simpleton,  you  are  ruined,"  said  Pillerault 
as  he  let  his  paper  fall  and  Birotteau  picked  it  up, 
though  it  was  the  Constitntion^tel. 

Pillerault  was  so  very  much  taken  up  with  his 
reflections  that  his  medallion  face  and  severe  ex- 
pression became  bronzed  like  metal  under  the  force 
of  a  coiner's  die:  he  remained  transfixed,  looked 
through  his  window  at  the  wall  across  the  way 


IN  MISFORTUNE  267 

without  seeing  it,  as  he  listened  to  Birotteau's  long 
discourse.  Evidently  he  understood  and  was  judg- 
ing, he  was  weighing  the  pros  and  cons  with  the 
inflexibility  of  a  Minos  who  had  crossed  the  Styx 
of  trade  when  he  left  the  Quai  des  Morfondus  for 
his  little  fourth  story. 

"Well!  uncle?"  said  Birotteau,  who  was  waiting 
for  a  reply  after  having  concluded  with  an  entreaty 
to  sell  to  the  amount  of  sixty  thousand  francs'  worth 
of  bonds. 

"Well,  my  poor  nephew,  I  cannot  do  it;  you  are 
too  deeply  involved.  The  Ragons  and  1  are  going 
to  lose  each  our  fifty  thousand  francs.  Those  good 
people  have,  on  my  advice,  sold  their  interest  in 
the  Vortschin  mines:  I  feel  myself  obliged,  in  case 
of  loss,  not  to  make  the  capital  good  to  them,  but  to 
assist  them,  to  assist  my  niece  and  Cesarine. 
You  will,  perhaps,  need  bread  for  all;  you  will  find 
it  at  my  house — " 

"Bread,  uncle?" 

"Well,  yes,  bread.  Look,  then,  at  matters  just 
as  they  are :  you  will  not  get  out  of  it !  Of  five  thous- 
and six  hundred  francs  income  I  will  be  able  to  take 
four  thousand  francs  to  divide  between  you  and  the 
Ragons.  Your  misfortune  having  come,  1  know  Con- 
stance: she  will  work  like  a  slave,  she  will  refuse 
herself  everything,  and  you  also,  Cesar!" 

"Everything  is  not  to  be  despaired  of,  uncle." 

"I  do  not  see  as  you  do." 

"I  will  prove  the  contrary  to  you." 

"Nothing  will  give  me  greater  pleasure." 


268  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

Birotteau  left  Pillerault  without  making  any 
reply.  He  had  come  to  seek  consolation  and  cour- 
age; he  received  a  second  blow,  less  violent  indeed 
than  the  first,  but,  instead  of  reaching  his  head,  it 
struck  his  heart:  the  heart  was  the  whole  life  of 
this  poor  man.  He  returned  after  having  gone 
down  a  few  steps. 

"Sir,"  he  said  coldly,  "Constance  knows  noth- 
ing ;  keep  my  secret  at  least,  and  pray  the  Ragons 
not  to  rob  me  of  the  peace  of  my  home  which  I  need 
so  much  in  struggling  against  misfortune." 

Pillerault  made  a  sign  of  assent. 

"Courage,  Cesar!"  he  added.  "I  see  you  are 
displeased  with  me,  but  later  on  you  will  do  me 
justice  when  thinking  of  your  wife  and  daughter." 

Discouraged  by  his  uncle's  opinion,  though  he 
credited  him  with  a  special  insight  into  things, 
Cesar  fell  from  the  topmost  height  of  his  hope  into 
the  filthy  marshes  of  uncertainty.  When,  in  such 
horrible  commercial  crises,  a  man  has  not  a  soul 
strengthened  as  was  Pillerault's,  he  becomes  the 
plaything  of  events:  he  follows  others'  ideas,  his 
own,  as  a  traveler  runs  after  a  will-o'-the-wisp.  He 
lets  himself  be  carried  along  by  the  whirlwind  in- 
stead of  lying  down  without  looking  at  it  when  it 
passes  or  standing  up  to  follow  its  course  that  he 
may  escape  it.  In  the  midst  of  his  grief  Birotteau 
remembered  the  suit  in  regard  to  his  loan.  He 
went  to  the  Rue  Vivienne,  to  Derville,  his  lawyer, 
to  begin  proceedings  as  soon  as  possible,  in  case  the 
lawyer  would  see  any  chance  of  having  the  contract 


IN  MISFORTUNE  269 

annulled.  The  perfumer  found  Derville  wrapped 
in  his  white  swan's-down  dressing-gown,  in  his 
chimney  corner,  calm  and  sedate,  like  all  lawyers 
who  are  used  to  the  most  terrible  secrets.  Birot- 
teau  for  the  first  time  remarked  this  necessary 
indifference,  which  gives  a  shiver  to  the  man  who 
is  excited,  hurt,  stricken  with  the  fever  of  endan- 
gered interests,  and  painfully  afflicted  in  his  life, 
in  his  honor,  in  his  wife  and  his  children,  as  Birot- 
teau  was  when  telling  of  his  misfortune. 

"If  it  is  proved,"  Derville  said  to  him  after 
having  listened  to  him,  "that  the  lender  no  longer 
had  at  Roguin's  the  sum  that  Roguin  would  have 
him  loan  to  you,  as  there  has  been  no  delivery  of 
goods,  there  is  chance  for  rescinding:  the  lender 
will  have  his  recourse  on  the  security,  as  you  for 
your  hundred  thousand  francs.  I  answer,  then,  for 
the  suit  as  much  as  one  can  answer  for  it,  for  no 
lawsuit  is  won  in  advance." 

The  opinion  of  such  an  able  lawyer  gave  back 
a  little  courage  to  the  perfumer,  who  entreated  Der- 
ville to  get  a  verdict  within  a  fortnight.  The  law- 
yer answered  that  perhaps  he  would  have,  in  three 
months,  a  verdict  that  would  annul  the  contract. 

"In  three  months!"  said  the  perfumer,  who 
thought  he  had  found  resources. 

"But  while  getting  an  early  place  on  the  calendar, 
we  cannot  get  your  adversary  to  come  up  to  your 
time:  he  will  make  use  of  the  delays  of  procedure. 
Counsel  are  not  always  there.  Who  knows  but  your 
defendant  may  let  the  suit  go  by  default.?     One 


270  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

does  not  get  along  as  fast  as  he  would  like,  my  dear 
master!"  said  Derville,  smiling. 

"But  in  the  Tribunal  of  Commerce?"  said  Birot- 
teau. 

"Oh!"  said  the  lawyer,  "the  consular  judges  and 
the  committing  judges  are  two  kinds  of  judges. 
You  fellows  do  things  slap-dash !  In  the  Palace  we 
have  forms.  Form  is  the  protector  of  law.  Would 
you  like  a  snap  judgment  that  would  make  you  lose 
your  forty  thousand  francs.?  Well,  your  adversary, 
who  is  going  to  see  this  sum  put  in  jeopardy,  will 
defend  himself.  Delays  are  the  barricades  of  the 
law." 

"You  are  right,"  said  Birotteau,  who  bade  good- 
bye to  Derville  and  left  with  death  in  his  heart. 
"They  are  all  right.  Money!  money!"  cried  the 
perfumer  in  the  street,  speaking  to  himself,  as  do 
all  the  business  people  of  this  turbulent  and  seeth- 
ing Paris,  which  a  modern  poet  calls  a  vat. 

On  seeing  him  come  in,  one  of  his  clerks,  who  was 
going  everywhere  presenting  the  bills, told  him  that, 
on  account  of  New  Year's  Day  being  so  near,  every- 
body tore  the  receipt  off  the  bill,  which  they  kept. 

"There  is  no  money,  then,  anywhere!"  said  the 
perfumer  aloud  in  the  shop. 

He  bit  his  lips;  his  clerks  had  all  raised  their 
heads  towards  him. 

Five  days  passed  thus,  five  days  during  which 
Braschon,  Lourdois,  Thorein,  Grindot,  Chaffaroux, 
in  fact  all  the  creditors  not  settled  with,  passed 
through  the  chameleon-like  phases  that  the  creditor 


IN  MISFORTUNE  27 1 

experiences  before  changing  from  the  peaceful  state 
in  which  confidence  keeps  him,  to  the  bloody  hues 
of  the  commercial  Bellona.  At  Paris  the  astringent 
period  of  distrust  is  as  quick  in  coming  as  the 
expansive  movement  of  confidence  is  slow  in  being 
decided  on:  having  once  fallen  into  the  restrictive 
system  of  fears  and  precautions  of  trade,  the  cred- 
itor has  recourse  to  sinister  meannesses  that  put  him 
below  the  debtor.  From  a  sweetish  politeness, 
creditors  pass  to  the  red  heat  of  impatience,  to  the 
darksome,  petty  annoyances  of  importunity,  to  out- 
bursts of  disappointment,  to  the  cold  blue  of  a  fore- 
gone conclusion,  and  to  the  black  insolence  of  a 
prepared  summons.  Braschon,  that  rich  upholsterer 
of  the  Faubourg  Saint-Antoine,  who  had  not  been 
invited  to  the  ball,  sounded  the  injured  creditor's 
charge  in  his  own  wounded  vanity;  he  wanted  to 
be  paid  within  twenty-four  hours.  He  demanded 
security;  not  a  lien  on  the  furniture,  but  a  second 
mortgage  next  to  that  for  the  forty  thousand  francs 
on  the  Faubourg  land.  In  spite  of  the  violence  of 
their  recriminations,  these  folk  still  left  some  inter- 
vals of  rest  during  which  Birotteau  had  time  to 
breathe.  Instead  of  overcoming  these  first  attacks 
on  his  exposed  condition  by  a  strong  resolve,  Cesar 
used  his  skill  to  keep  from  his  wife,  the  only  per- 
son who  could  advise  him,  the  knowledge  of  them. 
He  kept  guard  on  the  threshold  of  his  door,  around  his 
shop.  He  had  let  Celestin  into  the  secret  of  his 
temporary  embarrassment,  and  Celestin  examined 
his  master  with  a  look  of  curiosity  as  well  as  of 


2/2  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

astonishment:  Cesar  lessened  himself  in  his  esti- 
mation, as  in  disaster  are  lessened  men  accustomed 
to  success  and  whose  whole  strength  consists  in  the 
acquired  knowledge  that  routine  gives  to  those  of 
medium  understanding.  Without  having  the  ener- 
getic capacity  necessary  for  defence  on  so  many 
points  threatened  at  one  and  the  same  time,  Cesar, 
however,  had  the  courage  to  look  his  position  in  the 
face.  For  the  end  of  the  month  of  December  and 
the  fifteenth  of  January  he  needed,  as  well  for  his 
house  as  for  bills  falling  due,  his  rent  and  his  cash 
obligations,  a  sum  of  sixty  thousand  francs,  thirty 
thousand  of  it  for  December  31 :  all  his  resources 
gave  him  scarcely  twenty  thousand.  He  was,  then, 
ten  thousand  francs  short.  To  him  nothing  seemed 
to  be  in  a  desperate  way,  for  even  now  he  saw  no 
farther  than  the  present  moment,  like  adventurers 
who  live  from  hand  to  mouth.  Before  the  report  of 
his  difficulties  became  public  he  resolved,  then,  to 
try  what  seemed  to  him  a  grand  stroke,  and  he 
applied  to  the  famous  Francois  Keller,  the  banker, 
orator  and  philanthropist,  famous  for  his  benefi- 
cence and  for  his  desire  to  be  useful  to  the  trade 
of  Paris,  with  the  view  of  being  always  one  of  the 
Paris  Deputies  in  the  Chamber.  The  banker  was 
a  Liberal,  Birotteau  was  a  Royalist;  but  the  per- 
fumer judged  him  according  to  his  heart,  and  found 
in  the  difference  of  opinions  an  additional  reason 
for  getting  credit.  In  case  securities  would  be 
necessary,  he  did  not  doubt  Popinot's  devotedness, 
and  he  counted  on  asking  him  for  thirty  thousand 


IN  MISFORTUNE  273 

francs'  worth  of  notes,  which  would  help  him  to 
secure  the  success  of  his  lawsuit,  offered  as  se- 
curity to  the  most  pressing  of  his  creditors.  The 
communicative  perfumer,  who  on  the  pillow  told 
his  dear  Constance  the  slightest  emotions  of  his 
existence,  who  took  courage  therefrom,  who  there 
sought  the  lights  of  contradiction,  could  not  con- 
verse on  his  situation  either  with  his  chief  clerk, 
or  with  his  uncle,  or  with  his  wife.  His  ideas 
weighed  doubly  on  him.  But  this  generous  martyr 
preferred  to  suffer  rather  than  cast  this  fire-brand 
into  his  wife's  soul;  he  wanted  to  tell  her  of  the 
danger  when  it  would  be  over.  Perhaps  he  recoiled 
from  this  horrible  confidence.  The  fear  that  was 
inspired  in  him  by  his  wife  gave  him  courage.  He 
went  every  morning  to  hear  Low  Mass  at  Saint- 
Roch,  and  he  took  God  into  his  confidence. 

"If,  on  my  return  home  from  Saint-Roch,  I  do  not 
meet  a  soldier,  my  request  will  succeed.  It  will 
be  God's  answer,"  he  said  to  himself  after  having 
prayed  God  to  assist  him. 

And  he  was  happy  on  not  meeting  a  soldier. 
Yet  his  heart  was  too  oppressed ;  he  needed  another 
heart  in  which  he  could  groan.  Cesarine,  in  whom 
he  had  already  confided  at  the  time  of  the  fatal 
news,  was  in  possession  of  his  whole  secret. 
Glances  were  exchanged  stealthily  between  them, 
glances  full  of  suppressed  despair  and  hope,  of  in- 
vocations ejaculated  with  a  mutual  ardor,  of  sym- 
pathetic questions  and  answers,  of  flashes  from  soul 
to  soul.  Birotteau  affected  to  be  gay  and  jovial 
18 


274  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

with  his  wife.  Should  Constance  put  a  question 
to  him,  bah!  everything  was  going  on  all  right. 
Popinot,  who  was  not  costing  Cesar  a  thought,  was 
succeeding!  the  oil  was  taking!  the  Claparon  notes 
would  be  paid!  there  was  nothing  to  fear.  This 
sham  light-heartedness  was  frightful.  When  his  wife 
was  asleep  in  that  sumptuous  bed,  Birotteau  would 
get  up  in  a  sitting  posture,  and  would  fall  into  con- 
templating his  misfortune.  Cesarine  would  then 
come  in  sometimes  in  her  night-gown,  with  a  shawl 
over  her  white  shoulders,  and  barefooted. 

"Papa,  1  hear  you;  you  are  crying,"  she  would 
say,  weeping  herself. 

Birotteau  was  in  such  a  state  of  torpor  after  hav- 
ing written  the  letter  in  which  he  asked  for  an 
interview  with  the  great  Francois  Keller  that  his 
daughter  brought  him  into  Paris.  Only  then  did 
he  see  in  the  streets  enormous  red  placards,  and  his 
gaze  was  attracted  by  these  words : 

CEPHALIC  OIL. 

During  the  occidental  catastrophes  of  LaReinedes 
Roses  the  house  of  A.  Popinot  was  rising  radiant 
in  the  oriental  glare  of  success.  Advised  by 
Gaudissart  and  by  Finot,  Anselme  had  boldly 
launched  his  oil.  Two  thousand  placards  had  been 
put  up  within  three  days  in  the  most  conspicuous 
places  in  Paris.  No  one  could  escape  standing  face 
to  face  with  the  Cephalic  Oil  and  reading  a  terse 
phrase,  invented  by  Finot,  on  the  impossibility  of 
making  hair  grow  and  on  the  danger  of  dyeing  it, 


IN  MISFORTUNE  275 

accompanied  with  the  quotation  from  the  memoir 
submitted  by  Vauquelin  to  the  Academy  of  Science; 
a  genuine  certificate  of  life  for  dead  hair  promised 
to  those  who  would  use  the  Cephalic  Oil.  All  the 
hair-dressers  of  Paris,  wig-makers  and  perfumers 
had  decorated  their  doors  with  gilt  frames  contain- 
ing a  fine  print,  on  vellum  paper,  at  the  head  of 
which  shone  the  engraving  of  Hero  and  Leander, 
reduced,  with  this  epigrammatic  statement:  The 
ancient  people  of  antiquity  preserved  their  long  hair  by 
the  use  of  CEPHALIC  OIL. 

"He  has  invented  the  permanent  frame,  the  eter- 
nal advertisement!"  said  Birotteau  to  himself,  as 
he  stood  dumfounded  looking  at  the  front  of  La 
Cloche  d'  Argent. 

"You  have  not  seen,  then,  at  your  own  house," 
said  his  daughter  to  him,  "a  frame  that  Monsieur 
Anselme  came  himself  specially  to  bring,  at  the 
same  time  leaving  with  Celestin  three  hundred 
bottles  of  oil?" 

"No,"  he  replied. 

"Celestin  has  already  sold  fifty  to  transient,  and 
sixty  to  regular  customers!" 

"Ah!"  said  Cesar. 

The  perfumer,  deafened  by  the  thousand  bells 
that  misery  tinkles  in  its  victims'  ears,  was  living 
in  giddy  excitement;  the  evening  before,  Popinot 
had  waited  an  hour  for  him,  and  had  gone  away 
after  having  chatted  with  Constance  and  Cesarine, 
who  told  him  that  Cesar  was  absorbed  in  his  great 
affair. 


276  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

"Ah!  yes,  the  affair  of  the  land." 

Fortunately,  Popinot,  who  for  a  month  past  had 
not  left  the  Rue  des  Cinq-Diamants,  spent  the 
nights  and  worked  on  Sundays  in  the  factory,  had 
seen  neither  the  Ragons,  nor  Pillerault,  nor  his 
uncle,  the  judge.  He  slept  only  two  hours,  the  poor 
youth !  He  had  only  two  clerks,  and,  at  the  rate 
things  were  going,  he  would  soon  need  four.  In 
trade,  opportunity  is  everything.  He  who  does 
not  bestride  success  and  hold  on  to  the  mane  will 
fail  to  make  his  fortune.  Popinot  said  to  himself 
that  he  would  be  well  received  when,  after  six 
months,  he  would  say  to  his  aunt  and  his  uncle: 
"I  am  saved,  my  fortune  is  made!"  well  received 
by  Birotteau  when  he  would  bring  him  thirty  or 
forty  thousand  francs  as  his  share,  after  six  months. 
He  was  ignorant,  then,  of  Roguin's  flight,  Cesar's 
disasters  and  difficulties;  he  could  not  say  an  indis- 
creet word  to  Madame  Birotteau.  Popinot  promised 
Finot  five  hundred  francs  for  every  great  newspaper, 
and  there  were  ten  of  them !  three  hundred  francs 
for  every  second-rate  newspaper,  and  there  were 
ten  more!  if  mention  were  made  in  them,  three 
times  a  month,  of  the  Cephalic  Oil.  Finot  saw  three 
thousand  francs  for  himself  in  these  eight  thousand 
francs,  his  first  stake  to  be  put  up  in  the  great,  the 
immense  green  field  of  speculation !  He  accordingly 
pounced  like  a  lion  on  his  friends,  on  his  acquaint- 
ances; he  then  frequented  the  editors'  offices;  he 
got  close  to  all  the  editors'  ears,  in  the  morning; 
in  the  evening,  he  stepped  into  the  foyer  of  all  the 


IN   MISFORTUNE  277 

theatres.  "Think  of  my  oil,  dear  friend.  I  am  not 
in  it  for  nothing;  an  affair  of  comradeship,  you 
know!  Gaudissart,  a  good  Hver!"  Such  was  tiie 
first  and  the  last  phrase  of  all  his  discourses.  He 
went  for  the  bottom  of  all  the  last  columns  in  the 
newspapers  in  which  he  had  articles  inserted  by 
leaving  money  with  the  editors.  Full  of  tricks  as  a 
dancer  who  wants  to  pass  as  an  actor,  alert  as  an 
acrobat  who  makes  sixty  francs  a  month,  he  wrote 
captious  letters,  he  flattered  all  vanities,  he  did 
dirty  work  for  the  editors-in-chief,  so  as  to  get 
in  his  articles.  Money,  dinners,  platitudes,  every- 
thing served  his  eager  activity.  With  theatre 
tickets  he  bribed  the  workmen,  who,  about  midnight, 
close  up  the  columns  of  the  newspapers  by  taking 
some  articles  on  minor  topics,  always  at  hand,  the 
newspaper's  make-shifts.  Finot  was  then  to  be 
found  in  the  composing-room,  engaged  as  if  he  had 
an  article  to  revise.  Everybody's  friend,  he  made 
the  Cephalic  Oil  triumph  over  the  Regnaiild  Paste, 
the  Brazilian  Afixture,  and  all  the  inventions  that 
were  the  first  to  lead  the  genius  to  understand  the 
influence  of  the  newspaper  and  the  piston  effect 
produced  on  the  public  by  a  reiterated  article.  At 
that  time  of  innocence  many  newspaper  men  were 
like  oxen,  they  were  ignorant  of  their  strength; 
they  concerned  themselves  with  actresses,  with 
Florine,  Tullia,  Mariette,  etc.  They  lorded  it  over 
everything,  and  gathered  up  nothing.  Andoche's 
pretensions  concerned  neither  the  gaining  of  ap- 
plause for  an  actress,  nor  the  having  a  piece  played. 


278  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

nor  the  reception  to  be  given  to  his  melodramas,  nor 
having  articles  paid  for;  on  the  contrary,  he  offered 
money  at  opportune  times,  a  breakfast  on  set  pur- 
pose; there  was,  then,  not  a  single  newspaper  that 
did  not  speak  of  the  Cephalic  Oil,  of  its  agreement 
with  Vauquelin's  analyses,  that  did  not  make  fun 
of  those  who  believe  that  one  can  make  hair  grow, 
that  did  not  proclaim  the  danger  of  dyeing  it. 

These  articles  filled  Gaudissart's  soul  with  joy, 
and  he  armed  himself  with  newspapers  to  break 
down  prejudices  and  produced  the  effect  in  the  pro- 
vinces which  since  then  speculators  have  called, 
after  him,  the  grand  sally.  At  that  time  the  news- 
papers of  Paris  ruled  the  departments,  as  yet  with- 
out organs,  the  unfortunates !  The  newspapers, 
then,  were  seriously  studied  there,  from  the  title  to 
the  printer's  name,  a  line  in  which  might  be  con- 
cealed the  ironies  of  persecuted  opinion.  Gaudis- 
sart,  supported  by  the  press,  achieved  brilliant 
successes  even  in  the  very  first  cities  in  which  he 
gave  loose  rein  to  his  tongue.  All  the  provincial 
shopkeepers  wanted  frames  with  prints  of  the 
engraving  of  Hero  and  Leander.  Finot  aimed  at 
Macassar  Oil  that  charming  pleasantry  that  makes 
the  Funambules  laugh  so  much,  when  Pierrot  takes 
an  old  hair  broom,  nothing  of  which  is  left  but  the 
holes,  puts  Macassar  Oil  into  them  and  thus  makes 
the  broom  become  tufted  like  a  forest.  This  iron- 
ical scene  excited  universal  laughter.  Later  on 
Finot  pleasantly  related  that,  without  that  thousand 
crowns  he  would  have  died  of  starvation  and  grief. 


IN  MISFORTUNE  279 

To  him  a  thousand  crowns  was  a  fortune.  In  that 
campaign  he  was  the  first  to  see  into  the  power  of 
advertising,  of  which  he  made  such  great  and  such 
learned  use.  Three  months  later  he  was  editor-in- 
chief  of  a  small  newspaper,  which  he  afterwards 
succeeded  in  purchasing  and  which  was  the  founda- 
tion of  his  fortune.  Just  as  the  grand  sally  made 
by  the  Illustrious  Gaudissart,  the  Murat  of  travel- 
ing agents,  on  the  departments  and  the  frontiers  led 
to  the  commercial  triumph  of  the  house  of  A.  Popinot, 
so  it  triumphed  in  opinion, thanks  to  the  starvation 
assault  made  on  the  newspapers  and  which  produced 
that  active  publicity  obtained  in  the  same  way  by 
the  Bm{ilian  Mixture  and  by  the  Regnaiild  Paste. 
In  its  beginning  this  taking  of  public  opinion  by 
assault  begat  three  successes,  three  fortunes,  and 
was  worth  the  invasion  of  the  thousand  ambitions 
that  have  since  come  down  in  thick  battalions  into 
the  arena  of  the  newspapers  in  which  they  have 
created  the  paid  advertisement,  an  immense  revo- 
lution !  At  that  moment  the  house  of  A.  POPINOT 
AND  Company  strutted  on  the  walls  and  on  all  the 
shop  fronts.  Incapable  of  measuring  the  bearing  of 
such  publicity,  Birotteau  was  satisfied  with  saying 
toCesarine:  "This  little  Popinot  is  marching  in 
my  footsteps !"  without  understanding  the  difference 
of  the  times,  without  appreciating  the  power  of  the 
new  means  of  carrying  out  a  plan,  the  rapidity  and 
extent  of  which  took  in  the  commercial  world  much 
more  promptly  than  of  old.  Birotteau  had  not  set 
foot  in  his  factory  since  his  ball:   he  was  ignorant 


280  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

of  the  movement  and  activity  that  Popinot  dis- 
played there.  Anselme  had  engaged  all  Birotteau's 
workmen,  he  slept  there;  he  saw  Cesarine  seated 
on  all  the  cases,  lying  in  all  the  shipments,  printed 
on  all  the  bills;  he  said  to  himself:  "She  shall  be 
my  wife !"  when,  with  his  coat  off,  his  shirt  sleeves 
tucked  up  to  his  elbows,  he  courageously  drove  the 
nails  in  a  case,  in  the  absence  of  his  clerks  on  duty 

elsewhere. 

Next  day,  after   having   spent  the   whole   night 

studying  what  he  ought  to  say  and  not  say  to  one 
of  the  great  men  of  the  higher  banking  world,  Cesar 
reached  the  Rue  du   Houssaye,  and  with  horrible 
palpitations   approached  the  house  of   the  Liberal 
banker,  who  held  those  views  so  justly  accused  of 
desiring  the  overthrow  of  the  Bourbons.     The  per- 
fumer, like   all   the   smaller   dealers  of  Paris,  was 
ignorant  of  the   manners    and   men  of  the   upper 
banking  circle.     In  Paris,  between  this  circle  and 
trade  there  are  secondary  houses;  an  intermediary 
useful  to  banking,  it  finds  in  it  an  additional  guar- 
antee.    Constance  and  Birotteau,   who  had  never 
gone  beyond  their   means,   whose  till  was   never 
empty  and  who  kept  their  notes  in  a  pocket-book, 
had  never  had  recourse  to  these  houses  of  the  second 
order ;  they  were,  with  so  much  the  more  reason, 
unknown  in  the  upper  regions  of  banking.     Perhaps 
it  is  a  fault  not  to   establish  a  credit  for   oneself 
even  though  it  be  useless:    opinion  is  divided  on 
this  point.     However   the  case  may  be,  Birotteau 
regretted  very  much  that  he  had  not  given  out  his 


IN  MISFORTUNE  281 

signature.  But,  known  as  mayor's  deputy  and  as 
a  man  of  politics,  he  thought  he  had  only  to  give 
his  name  and  enter ;  he  was  ignorant  of  the  quasi- 
royal  affluence  distinguishing  this  banker's  audi" 
ence.  Shown  into  the  parlor  in  front  of  the  private 
office  of  this  man  who  was  famous  for  so  many 
reasons,  Birotteau  saw  himself  in  the  midst  of  a 
numerous  society  made  up  of  Deputies,  writers, 
newspaper  men,  bill-brokers,  men  high  in  trade, 
business  people,  engineers,  and  especially  intimate 
friends  who  passed  through  the  crowd  and  knocked 
in  a  particular  manner  at  the  door  of  the  office 
which  they  were  privileged  to  enter. 

"What  am  I  in  the  midst  of  this  machinery.?" 
said  Birotteau  to  himself,  quite  bewildered  by  the 
activity  of  that  intellectual  shop  whence  was  doled 
out  the  daily  bread  of  the  Opposition,  where  were 
rehearsed  the  parts  of  the  great  tragi-comedy  played 
by  the  Left. 

He  heard  discussed  on  his  right  the  question  of 
the  loan  for  the  completion  of  the  chief  lines  of 
canals  proposed  by  the  directors  of  bridges  and 
roads,  and  it  was  a  question  of  millions!  On  his 
left,  newspaper  men  who  would  prey  on  the  bank- 
er's vanity  were  conversing  on  yesterday's  sitting 
and  on  the  master's  improvisation.  During  a  wait 
of  two  hours  Birotteau  three  times  saw  the  political 
banker  escorting  out  three  steps  beyond  his  office 
door  some  men  of  importance.  Francois  Keller 
went  as  far  as  the  ante-chamber  with  the  last,  Gen- 
eral Foy. 


282  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

"I  am  lost!"  said  Cesar  to  himself,  and  his  heart 
sank. 

When  the  banker  returned  to  his  office  the  troop 
of  courtiers,  friends  and  interested  persons  assailed 
him,  like  dogs  following  a  pretty  bitch.  Some 
bold  curs  slipped  in  spite  of  him  into  the  sanctum. 
The  conferences  lasted  five  minutes,  ten  minutes,  a 
quarter  of  an  hour.  Some  went  away  contrite, 
others  wore  a  look  of  satisfaction  or  put  on  airs  of 
importance.  Time  was  passing,  and  Birotteau 
looked  anxiously  at  the  clock.  No  one  paid  the 
least  attention  to  that  hidden  sorrow  that  groaned 
in  a  gilt  arm-chair  in  the  chimney  corner,  close  to 
the  door  of  that  office  where  resided  the  universal 
panacea,  credit!  Cesar  thought  painfully  that  he 
had  been  for  a  moment  king  at  his  own  house,  as 
that  man  was  king  every  morning,  and  he  measured 
the  depth  of  the  abyss  into  which  he  had  fallen. 
Bitter  thought!  How  many  unshed  tears  during 
that  hour  spent  there! — How  often  did  not  Birotteau 
entreat  God  to  make  that  man  favorable  to  him  !  for 
he  found  in  him,  under  a  thick  covering  of  popular 
good  nature,  an  insolence,  a  choleric  tyranny,  a 
brutal  disposition  to  domineer  that  terrified  his  mild 
soul. 

At  last,  when  there  were  only  ten  or  twelve 
persons  left,  Birotteau  resolved,  as  soon  as  he  heard 
the  outer  door  of  the  office  creak,  to  get  ready  and 
put  himself  on  a  level  with  the  great  orator  by  say- 
ing to  him  :  "1  am  Birotteau !"  The  grenadier  who 
first  rushed   into  the  redoubt  of  Moskowa  did  not 


IN  MISFORTUNE  283 

display  more  courage  than  the  perfumer  summoned 
up  to  carry  out  this  manoeuvre. 

"After  all,  I  am  his  deputy,"  he  said  to  himself 
as  he  arose  to  announce  his  name. 

Francois  Keller's  physiognomy  became  affable,  he 
evidently  wanted  to  be  amiable,  he  looked  at  the 
perfumer's  red  ribbon,  drew  back,  opened  his  office 
door,  showed  him  in,  and  remained  for  some  time 
chatting  with  two  persons  who  bounded  in  from  the 
stairway  with  the  violence  of  a  water-spout. 

"Decazes  wishes  to  speak  with  you,"  said  one 
of  the  two. 

"It  is  a  question  of  killing  the  Marsan  pavil- 
ion! The  king  sees  clearly,  he  is  coming  over  to 
us!"  exclaimed  the  other. 

"We  will  go  together  to  the  Chamber,"  said  the 
banker  as  he  re-entered  in  the  attitude  of  the  frog 
that  wants  to  be  an  ox. 

"How  can  he  think  of  his  business?"  Birotteau 
asked  himself,  quite  upset. 

The  sun  of  superiority  scintillated,  dazzled  the 
perfumer,  as  light  blinds  insects  that  like  a  dull  day 
or  the  half  darkness  of  a  fine  night.  On  an  im- 
mense table  he  perceived  the  budget,  the  thousand 
prints  of  the  Chamber,  the  open  volumes  of  the 
Moniieiir,  consulted  and  marked  so  as  to  be  ready 
to  fling  at  a  minister's  head  his  previous  remarks 
now  forgotten  and  to  make  him  sing  recantations  to 
the  applause  of  an  unthinking  rabble  incapable  of 
understanding  that  events  modify  everything.  On 
another     table,    cartons     in    a    disordered    heap. 


284  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

memoranda,  plans,  the  thousand  applications  en- 
trusted to  a  man  upon  whose  cash  all  the  nascent  in- 
dustries try  to  draw.  The  royal  luxury  of  this  office 
full  of  pictures,  statues,  works  of  art;  the  encumber- 
ing of  the  mantel-piece,  the  jumbling  together  of 
national  or  foreign  interests  piled  up  like  packages, 
everything  struck  Birotteau,  made  him  feel  small, 
increased  his  fear  and  stagnated  his  blood.  On 
Frangois  Keller's  bureau  lay  files  of  notes,  bills  of 
exchange,  trade  circulars.  Keller  sat  down  and  set 
to  signing  rapidly  the  letters  that  required  no  exam- 
ination. 

"To  what,  sir,  do  I  owe  the  honor  of  your  visit?" 
he  asked  of  him. 

At  these  words,  uttered  for  him  alone  by  that 
voice  which  spoke  to  Europe,  while  that  greedy 
hand  was  going  over  the  paper,  the  poor  perfumer 
felt  as  if  he  had  a  hot  iron  in  his  bowels.  He  as- 
sumed an  agreeable  mien  which  the  banker  had 
seen  assumed  for  ten  years  past  by  those  who 
wanted  to  encoil  him  in  a  matter  important  to  them- 
selves only,  and  which  already  gave  him  the  whip 
hand  on  them.  Francois  Keller  cast,  then,  on  Cesar 
a  look  that  pierced  his  head,  a  Napoleonic  look. 
The  imitation  of  Napoleon's  look  was  a  ridiculous 
levity  then  assumed  by  some  upstarts  who  were  not 
even  the  counterfeit  presentments  of  their  Emperor. 
This  look  fell  on  Birotteau,  a  man  of  the  Right,  solid 
with  the  powers  that  be,  an  element  of  monarchical 
election,  like  a  custom-house  officer's  pencil  that 
marks  an  article  of  merchandise. 


IN  MISFORTUNE  285 

**I  do  not  want  to  take  up  your  valuable  time, 
sir,  I  will  be  brief.  1  come  in  regard  to  a  purely 
commercial  matter,  to  ask  you  if  I  can  obtain  a 
credit  with  you.  A  former  judge  in  the  Tribunal  of 
Commerce  and  known  at  the  Bank,  you  understand 
that,  if  I  had  a  full  pocket-book,  I  would  only  have 
to  apply  there,  where  you  are  governor.  I  have  had 
the  honor  of  sitting  on  the  bench  with  Baron  Thibon, 
chairman  of  the  discount  committee,  and  he  cer- 
tainly would  not  refuse  me.  But  I  have  never  used 
my  credit  or  my  signature;  my  signature  is  virgin, 
and  you  know  how  many  difificulties  in  that  case  a 
negotiation  presents — " 

Keller  shook  his  head,  and  Birotteau  took  this 
gesture  as  a  sign  of  impatience. 

"Here  is  the  fact,  sir,"  he  continued.  "1  have 
entered  into  a  land  speculation,  outside  of  my  bus- 


iness— " 


Francois  Keller,  who  went  on  signing  and 
reading,  without  seeming  to  listen  to  Cesar, 
turned  his  head  and  gave  him  a  sign  of  ap- 
proval that  encouraged  him.  Birotteau  thought 
his  affair  had  a  good  chance,  and  he  breathed  more 
easily. 

"Go  on,  I  am  listening,"  Keller  said  to  him  good- 
naturedly. 

"I  am  purchaser  to  the  extent  of  half  the  land 
situated  around  the  Madeleine." 

"Yes,  1  have  heard  mention  made  at  Nucingen's 
of  this  immense  transaction  undertaken  by  the 
Claparon  house." 


286  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

"Well,"  continued  the  perfumer,  "a  credit  of  a 
hundred  thousand  francs,  guaranteed  by  my  half 
in  this  affair,  or  by  my  stock  in  trade,  would  suffice 
to  carry  me  over  to  the  time  when  1  will  realize  the 
profit  that  ought  soon  to  be  derived  from  an  idea 
belonging  purely  to  the  perfumery  business.  If  it 
were  necessary,  1  would  secure  you  with  notes  of  a 
new  house,  that  of  Popinot,  a  young  house  which — '* 

Keller  seemed  to  take  very  little  interest  in  the 
house  of  Popinot,  and  Birotteau  understood  that  he 
had  entered  on  a  bad  course;  he  stopped,  and  then, 
alarmed  at  the  silence,  he  continued: 

"As  regards  the  interests,  we — " 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  the  banker,  "the  matter  may 
be  arranged;  have  no  doubt  of  my  desire  to  be  ser- 
viceable to  you.  Busy  as  I  am,  I  have  the  finances 
of  Europe  on  my  shoulders,  and  the  Chamber  takes 
up  all  my  spare  moments.  You  will  not  be  surprised 
to  learn  that  1  leave  my  clerks  to  attend  to  a  multi- 
tude of  matters.  Go  and  see,  down  below,  my 
brother  Adolphe,  explain  to  him  the  nature  of  your 
securities.  If  he  approve  of  the  operation,  you  will 
return  with  him  to-morrow  or  the  day  after,  at  the 
hour  when  I  make  a  thorough  examination  of  mat- 
ters, at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning.  We  will  be 
happy  and  proud  of  having  obtained  your  confidence. 
You  are  one  of  those  consistent  royalists  to  whom 
one  can  be  politically  hostile,  but  whose  esteem  is 
flattering — " 

"Sir,"  said  the  perfumer,  lifted  up  by  this  parlia- 
mentary phrase,  "I  am  as  worthy  of  the  honor  that 


IN  MISFORTUNE  287 

you  do  me  as  of  the  distinguished  and  royal  favor 
— I  deserved  it  by  sitting  in  the  consular  court  and 
by  fighting — " 

"Yes,"  continued  the  banker,  "your  reputation 
is  a  passport,  Monsieur  Birotteau.  You  would  pro- 
pose only  feasible  projects.  You  can  count  on  our 
assistance." 

A  woman,  Madame  Keller,  one  of  the  two  daugh- 
ters of  the  Comte  de  Gondreville,  Peer  of  France, 
opened  a  door  that  Birotteau  had  not  seen. 

"My  friend,  I  hope  to  see  you  before  you  go  to 
the  Chamber,"  she  said. 

"It  is  two  o'clock,"  exclaimed  the  banker;  "the 
battle  is  on.  Excuse  me,  sir,  there  is  question  of 
overthrowing  a  Ministry. — See  my  brother." 

He  escorted  the  perfumer  to  the  parlor  door,  and 
said  to  one  of  his  men : 

"Show  the  gentleman  to  Monsieur  Adolphe's 
office." 

Across  the  labyrinth  of  stairways  through  which 
he  was  guided  by  a  man  in  livery  to  a  less  sumptuous 
office  than  that  of  the  head  of  the  house,  but  more 
useful,  the  perfumer,  astride  on  an  if,  the  most 
pleasant  mounting  for  hope,  stroked  his  chin  in 
regarding  as  a  good  omen  the  famous  man's 
flattery.  He  regretted  that  an  enemy  of  the  Bour- 
bons should  be  so  gracious,  so  capable,  so  great  an 
orator. 

Full  of  these  illusions,  he  entered  an  office 
that  was  bare,  cold,  furnished  with  two  cylindri- 
cal secretaries,  common  arm-chairs,  adorned  with 


288  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

well-worn  curtains  and  a  thin  carpet.  This  office  was 
to  the  other  what  a  kitchen  is  to  the  dining-room, 
the  factory  to  the  shop.  There  bank  and  trade 
affairs  were  ripped  open,  enterprises  analyzed,  and 
bank  discounts  on  all  the  profits  of  industries  judged 
to  be  profitable  laid  bare.  There  were  concocted 
those  bold  strokes  by  which  the  Kellers  distin- 
guished themselves  in  the  upper  sphere  of  trade, 
and  by  which  for  some  days  they  made  for  them- 
selves a  rapidly-exploited  monopoly.  There  were 
studied  the  defects  of  legislation  and  were  unblush- 
ingly  stipulated  what  the  Bourse  calls  the  lion's 
share,  commissions  exacted  for  the  smallest  ser- 
vices, like  bolstering  up  an  enterprise  with  their 
name  and  giving  it  credit.  There  were  concocted 
those  flowery  deceptions  of  legality  that  consist  in 
holding  out  mere  promises  to  doubtful  schemes,  in 
order  to  delay  their  success  and  to  kill  them  so  as 
to  get  possession  of  them  by  demanding  repayment 
of  the  capital  at  a  critical  moment:  a  horrible  man- 
oeuvre by  which  so  many  share-holders  have  been 
ensnared. 

The  two  brothers  had  divided  their  parts  among 
them.  Above,  Francois,  a  brilliant  man  and  a  poli- 
tician, conducted  himself  as  a  king,  distributed 
favors  and  promises,  made  himself  agreeable  to  all. 
With  him  everything  was  easy;  he  entered  nobly 
into  business  matters,  he  fuddled  new  adventurers 
and  speculators  of  recent  date  with  the  wine  of  his 
favor  and  his  captious  speech,  by  developing  their 
own  ideas  for  them.     Below,  Adolphe  excused  his 


IN  MISFORTUNE  289 

brother  for  his  political  preoccupations,  and  he 
skilfully  raked  over  every  proposition;  he  was  the 
compromised  brother,  the  hard  man.  It  was  neces- 
sary, then,  to  have  two  forms  of  speech  in  order  to 
make  a  bargain  with  this  perfidious  house.  Fre- 
quently the  gracious  yes  of  the  sumptuous  office 
became  a  dry  no  in  Adolphe's.  This  suspensive 
manoeuvre  gave  time  for  reflection,  and  often  served 
to  amuse  unwary  customers.  The  banker's  brother 
was  then  conversing  with  the  famous  Palma,  the 
intimate  adviser  of  the  house  of  Keller,  who  retired 
on  the  perfumer  making  his  appearance.  When 
Birotteau  had  explained  himself,  Adolphe,  the 
shrewder  of  the  two  brothers,  a  true  lynx,  with 
a  sharp  eye,  thin  lips,  sickly  complexion,  cast  at 
Birotteau,  over  his  glasses  and  lowering  his  head,  a 
look  that  ought  to  be  called  the  banker's  look,  and 
which  is  of  the  same  order  as  that  of  vultures  and 
lawyers:  it  is  greedy  and  indifferent,  clear  and 
dark,  bright  and  sombre. 

"Be  so  good  as  to  send  me  the  papers  bear- 
ing on  the  Madeleine  affair,"  said  he;  "therein 
lies  the  security  for  the  loan.  We  must  ex- 
amine them  before  opening  negotiations  with 
you  and  discussing  the  matter  of  interest.  If  the 
affair  is  good,  we  may,  without  overburdening 
you,  be  satisfied  with  a  share  in  the  profits  instead 
of  a  discount." 

"Come,"  said    Birotteau   to    himself,  as  he  re- 
turned   home,   "1   see  what   it   is  all  about.     Like 
the  beaver  when  pursued,  I  must  get  rid  of  a  part 
19 


290  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

of  my  skin.  It  is  better  to  let  oneself  be  clipped 
than  to  die." 

That  day  he  returned  home  quite  gleeful,  and  his 
gladness  was  genuine. 

"I  am  saved,"  he  said  to  Cesarine,  "I  will  have  a 
credit  with  the  Kellers." 


Not  before  December  29  was  Birotteau  able  to  find 
himself  again  in  Adolphe  Keller's  office.  The  first 
time  that  the  perfumer  returned,  Adolphe  had  gone 
six  leagues  out  of  Paris  to  view  a  farm  that  the  great 
orator  wanted  to  buy.  The  second  time,  both  the 
Kellers  were  engaged  in  business  for  the  morning: 
it  was  a  question  of  offering  a  proposed  loan  to  the 
Chambers,  and  they  begged  Birotteau  to  return  on 
the  following  Friday.  These  delays  were  killing  the 
perfumer.  But  at  last  that  Friday  dawned.  Birot- 
teau found  himself  in  the  office,  seated  in  the  chim- 
ney corner,  in  front  of  the  window,  and  Adolphe 
Keller  at  the  other  corner. 

"All  right,  sir,"  said  the  banker  to  him  when  he 
showed  him  the  papers ;  "but  what  have  you  paid  on 
the  price  of  the  land?" 

"A  hundred  thousand  francs." 

"In  money  ?" 

"In  notes." 

"Have  they  been  taken  up.?" 

"They  have  to  fall  due  yet." 

"But  if  you  have  paid  too  much  for  the  land,  in 
regard  to  its  present  value,  where  would  be  our 
security.''  It  would  depend  only  on  the  good  opin- 
ion that  you  inspire  and  on  the  consideration  that 
you  enjoy.  Business  does  not  rest  on  sentiment 
If    you   had   paid   two   hundred   thousand    francs, 

(291) 


292  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

supposing  that  a  hundred  thousand  too  much  were 
given  to  get  possession  of  the  land,  we  would  then 
have  a  security  of  a  hundred  thousand  francs  to 
answer  for  a  hundred  thousand  francs  discounted. 
The  result  to  us  would  be  to  be  owners  of  your  share 
by  paying  in  your  stead.  It  is  necessary,  then,  to 
know  whether  the  affair  is  good.  To  wait  five 
years  to  double  one's  money,  it  were  better  to 
make  it  available  in  bank.  There  are  so  many 
things  that  might  happen!  You  want  to  float  a 
loan  in  order  to  pay  notes  falling  due,  a  dangerous 
experiment!  One  goes  back  in  order  to  be  able  to 
take  a  better  jump.  The  affair  does  not  go  with 
us." 

This  phrase  struck  Birotteau  as  if  the  executioner 
had  adjusted  the  fatal  blade  over  his  neck,  and  he 
lost  his  head. 

"Let  us  see,"  said  Adolphe,  "my  brother  takes 
a  deep  interest  in  you,  he  has  spoken  of  you  to  me. 
Let  us  examine  your  affairs,"  he  said,  casting  on 
the  perfumer  the  look  of  a  courtesan  pressed  for  the 
payment  of  her  rent. 

Birotteau  became  Molineux,  whom  he  had  so 
superciliously  despised.  Trifled  with  by  the 
banker,  who  was  pleased  to  reel  the  bobbin  of  this 
poor  man's  thoughts,  and  who  knew  how  to  interro- 
gate a  merchant  as  well  as  Judge  Popinot  did  to 
lecture  a  criminal,  Cesar  told  the  story  of  his 
enterprises,  he  trotted  out  the  Suliana  Double 
Paste,  the  Carminative  Water,  the  Roguin  affair, 
his  lawsuit  on  account  of  his  mortgage  loan,  of  which 


IN   MISFORTUNE  293 

he  had  received  nothing.  On  seeing  Keller's 
smiling  and  reflective  air,  with  his  waggings  of  the 
head,  Birotteau  said  to  himself:  "He  is  listening 
to  me!  1  am  interesting  him!  I  will  have  my 
credit!"  Adolphe  Keller  laughed  at  Birotteau  as 
the  perfumer  had  laughed  at  Molineux.  Drawn  on 
by  the  loquacity  peculiar  to  people  who  allow  them- 
selves to  be  fuddled  by  misfortune,  Cesar  showed 
the  real  Birotteau:  he  gave  his  measure  when  he 
proposed  as  security  the  Cephalic  Oil  and  the  Popi- 
not  house,  his  last  card.  The  simpleton,  allured  by 
a  false  hope,  allowed  himself  to  be  sounded  and  ex- 
amined by  Adolphe  Keller,  who  found  in  the  per- 
fumer a  royalist  numskull  ready  to  go  into  insol- 
vency. Delighted  at  seeing  a  deputy  to  the  mayor 
of  their  arrondissement  fail,  a  man  decorated  so 
short  a  time  before,  a  man  of  the  powers  that  be, 
Adolphe  then  told  Birotteau  plainly  that  he  could 
not  either  open  an  account  with  him  or  say  any- 
thing in  his  favor  to  his  brother  Francois,  the  great 
orator.  If  Francois  allowed  himself  to  go  to  the  ex- 
tent of  imbecile  generosity  in  order  to  secure  peo- 
ple of  an.  opinion  contrary  to  his  own  and  his 
political  enemies,  he,  Adolphe,  would  oppose  with 
all  his  might  his  playing  the  part  of  a  dupe,  and 
would  prevent  him  from  reaching  out  his  hand  to 
an  old  adversary  of  Napoleon,  to  one  who  had  been 
wounded  at  Saint-Roch.  Birotteau,  exasperated, 
wanted  to  say  something  of  the  greed  of  higher 
banking,  of  its  hard-heartedness,  of  its  false  philan- 
thropy; but  he  was  seized  with  such  a  violent  pain 


294  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

that  he  could  scarcely  stammer  out  a  few  phrases  on 
the  institution  of  the  Bank  of  France,  on  which  the 
Kellers  drew. 

"But,"  said  Adolphe  Keller,  "the  Bank  will 
never  make  a  discount  that  a  private  banker  re- 
fuses." 

"The  Bank, "  said  Birotteau,  "has  always  seemed 
to  me  to  be  wanting  in  its  purpose  when  it  takes 
credit  to  itself,  in  presenting  the  account  of  its 
profits,  for  having  lost  only  a  hundred  or  two  hun- 
dred thousand  francs  with  the  trade  of  Paris,  for  it 
is  its  guardian." 

Adolphe  could  not  help  smiling  as  he  rose  with 
the  air  of  a  man  who  was  being  bored. 

"If  the  Bank  mixed  itself  up  with  guarantees 
for  people  embarrassed  in  the  most  knavish  and  most 
slippery  way  in  the  world  of  finance,  it  would  have 
to  close  its  doors  within  a  year.  Already  it  has 
great  difficulty  in  defending  itself  against  notes  in 
circulation  and  false  assets;  what  would  be  the  case 
if  it  had  to  investigate  the  standing  of  those  who 
wanted  assistance  from  it?" 

"Where  am  I  to  find  the  ten  thousand  francs  that 
I  am  short  for  to-morrow,  Saturday,  the  thirtieth.?" 
said  Birotteau  to  himself,  as  he  passed  through  the 
courtyard. 

According  to  custom  payment  is  made  on  the 
thirtieth  when  the  thirty-first  is  a  holiday.  On 
reaching  the  gate,  his  eyes  bathed  in  tears,  the 
perfumer  scarcely  saw  a  fine  English  horse,  sweat- 
ing, that  had  stopped  right  in  front   of  the  door 


IN  MISFORTUNE  295 

with  one  of  the  prettiest  cabs  that  at  that  time 
rolled  over  the  Paris  pavements.  He  might  well 
have  wished  to  have  been  crushed  beneath  that  cab; 
it  would  be  death  by  accident,  and  the  disorder  in 
which  his  affairs  then  were  would  have  been  set 
down  to  the  account  of  that  event  He  did  not 
recognize  Du  Tillet,  who,  slender,  and  in  elegant 
morning  dress,  threw  the  reins  to  his  servant  and 
a  covering  on  the  sweating  back  of  his  blooded 
horse. 

"And  by  what  chance  here.-"'  said  Du  Tillet  to 
his  former  employer. 

Du  Tillet  knew  it  well:  the  Kellers  had  asked 
information  of  Claparon,  who,  referring  them  to  Du 
Tillet,  had  demolished  the  perfumer's  reputation. 
Though  quickly  checked,  the  poor  merchant's  tears 
spoke  eloquently. 

"Have  you  come  to  ask  some  favor  of  those 
Arabs,"  said  Du  Tillet,  "of  those  cut-throats  of 
trade,  who  have  been  guilty  of  infamous  tricks,  such 
as  raising  the  price  of  indigo  after  having  secured 
a  monopoly  of  it,  lowering  rice  so  as  to  force  holders 
to  sell  theirs  at  the  lowest  price  in  order  to  have  all 
and  control  the  market,  to  those  atrocious  pirates 
who  have  neither  faith,  nor  law,  nor  soul !  You  do 
not  know,  then,  what  they  are  capable  of?  They 
open  a  credit  with  you  when  your  affairs  are  pros- 
perous, and  close  it  against  you  as  soon  as  you  are 
involved  in  business  difficulties,  and  they  force  you 
to  surrender  it  at  a  low  price.  Havre,  Bordeaux 
and  Marseilles  will   tell   you  fine  stories  to  their 


296  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

account.  Politics  serves  them  in  covering  up  many 
dirty  jobs,  you  know !  And  so  I  make  a  tool  of  them 
without  any  scruple!  Let  us  take  a  walk,  my  dear 
Birotteau.  Joseph,  walk  my  horse  about;  he  is  too 
warm,  and  he  represents  three  thousand  francs. 

And  he  set  out  toward  the  boulevard. 

"Let  us  see,  my  dear  master,  for  you  have  been 
my  master,  do  you  need  money  ?  They  have  asked 
you  for  security,  the  wretches!  I,  who  know  you, 
offer  you  money  on  your  mere  notes.  I  have 
honorably  made  my  fortune  against  unheard-of 
difficulties.  That  fortune,  I  went  to  seek  it  in 
Germany!  I  can  tell  you  of  it  to-day:  I  bought  the 
credits  on  the  king  at  sixty  per  cent  discount,  then 
your  bond  has  been  very  useful  to  me,  and  1,  yes, 
I,  am  most  grateful  for  it!  If  you  need  ten  thousand 
francs,  they  are  at  your  service." 

"What!  Du  Tillet,"  Cesar  exclaimed,  "is  that 
true?  are  you  not  playing  with  me?  Yes,  I  am 
somewhat  pinched,  but  it  is  only  for  the  time 
being — " 

"I  know  it,  the  Roguin  affair,"  Du  Tillet  replied. 
"Well,  1  am  in  it  for  ten  thousand  francs  that  the 
old  scamp  borrowed  from  me  in  order  to  get  away; 
but  Madame  Roguin  will  pay  them  back  to  me  out 
of  her  claims.  I  have  advised  that  poor  woman  not 
to  be  so  stupid  as  to  give  her  fortune  to  pay  debts 
contracted  for  a  mistress;  that  would  be  all  right  if 
she  paid  all,  but  why  favor  certain  creditors  to  the 
detriment  of  others  ?  You  are  not  a  Roguin ;  I  know 
you,"  said  Du  Tillet,   "you  would  blow  out  your 


IN  MISFORTUNE  297 

brains  rather  than  have  me  lose  a  sou.  Come,  here 
we  are  at  the  Rue  de  la  Chaussee  d'Antin;  come  up 
into  my  quarters." 

The  upstart  took  pleasure  in  making  his  former 
master  pass  through  the  apartments  instead  of  tak- 
ing him  into  the  ofifice,  and  he  led  him  slowly  in 
order  to  let  him  see  a  beautiful  and  sumptuous  din- 
ing-room furnished  with  paintings  purchased  in 
Germany,  two  salons  displaying  an  elegance  and 
luxury  that  Birotteau  had  as  yet  admired  only  at 
the  Due  de  Lenoncourt's.  The  shop-keeper's  eyes 
were  dazzled  with  gildings,  works  of  art,  silly 
trifles,  precious  vases,  by  a  thousand  details  that 
threw  entirely  into  the  shade  the  luxury  of  Con- 
stance's tenement;  and,  knowing  the  cost  of  his 
folly,  he  said  to  himself: 

"Whence,  then,  has  he  got  so  many  millions?" 
He  entered  a  bed-room  compared  with  which  that 
of  his  wife  seemed  to  him  to  be  what  the  fourth 
story  of  a  super  is  to  the  mansion  of  a  star  at  the 
Opera.  The  ceiling,  all  in  violet  satin,  had  raised 
work  of  white  satin  folds.  An  ermine  bed-spread 
reached  down  to  the  violet  colors  of  a  Levant  rug. 
The  furniture  and  the  accessories  showed  new  forms 
and  an  extravagant  taste.  The  perfumer  stopped 
in  front  of  a  charming  clock  representing  Love  and 
Psyche, that  had  just  been  made  for  a  famous  banker ; 
Du  Tillet  had  secured  the  only  duplicate  of  it  that 
could  be  had.  At  last  the  old  employer  and  his  for- 
mer clerk  reached  an  elegant  fop's  ofifice,  a  catchy 
place,  bespeaking  love  rather  than  finance.   Madame 


298  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

Roguin  had  no  doubt  offered,  in  acknowledgment  of 
the  attention  paid  to  her  fortune,  a  cutter  in  en- 
graved gold,  malachite  files  adorned  with  chased 
work,  all  the  costly  knicknacks  of  an  unbridled 
luxury.  The  carpet,  one  of  the  richest  products  of 
Belgium,  astonished  the  look  as  much  as  it  sur- 
prised the  feet  by  the  soft  thickness  of  its  rich  pile. 
Du  Tillet  made  the  poor,  dazzled,  confused  per- 
fumer sit  down  beside  his  fire-place. 

"Will  you  have  breakfast  with  me?" 

He  rang  the  bell.  A  valet  came  in  who  was  bet- 
ter dressed  than  Birotteau. 

"Tell  Monsieur  Legras  to  come  up,  then  go  and 
tell  Joseph  to  come  back  here;  you  will  find  him  at 
the  door  of  the  Keller  house ;  you  will  go  in  and  say 
to  Adolphe  Keller  that  instead  of  going  to  see  him  I 
will  wait  for  him  until  it  is  time  to  go  to  the 
Bourse.     Do  as  1  tell  you,  and  quickly." 

These  phrases  amazed  the  perfumer. 

"He  is  going  to  bring  that  terrible  Adolphe  Keller 
here;  he  whistles  him  up  as  he  would  a  dog,  does 
this  Du  Tillet" 

A  page,  as  round  as  one's  fist,  came  to  set  a  table 
that  Birotteau  had  not  observed,  so  small  was  it, 
and  placed  on  it  a  p^te  de  foies  gras,  a  bottle  of 
Bordeaux  wine,  and  all  the  choice  things  that  made 
their  appearance  at  Birotteau's  only  twice  in  three 
months,  on  great  days.  Du  Tillet  was  pleased. 
His  hatred  against  the  only  man  who  should  have 
had  the  right  to  despise  him  developed  so  warmly 
that    Birotteau    made    him    experience    the    deep 


IN  MISFORTUNE  299 

sensation  caused  by  the  sight  of  a  sheep  defending 
itself  against  a  tiger.  A  generous  idea  passed 
through  his  heart:  he  asked  himself  whether  his 
revenge  had  not  been  accomplished,  he  fluctuated 
between  the  counsels  of  awakened  clemency  and 
those  of  obdurate  hate. 

"1  can  annihilate  this  man  commercially,"  he 
thought  "I  have  the  right  of  life  and  death  over 
him,  over  his  wife,  who  has  put  me  on  the  rack, 
over  his  daughter,  whose  hand  at  one  time  seemed 
to  me  a  whole  fortune.  I  have  his  money.  Let  us 
then  be  satisfied  with  letting  this  poor  simpleton 
swim  the  length  of  the  rope  which  I  hold  in  my 
hand." 

Honest  people  are  wanting  in  tact;  they  have  no 
measure  for  well-doing,  because  to  them  everything 
is  free  from  wile  or  subterfuge.  Birotteau  consum- 
mated his  misfortune.  He  irritated  the  tiger,  pierced 
him  to  the  heart  without  knowing  it;  he  rendered 
him  implacable  by  one  word,  by  a  eulogy,  by  a  vir- 
tuous expression,  by  the  very  simplicity  of  probity. 
When  the  cashier  came,  Du  Tillet  pointed  out  Cesar 
to  him. 

"Monsieur  Legras,  bring  me  ten  thousand  francs 
and  a  note  for  that  amount  made  out  to  my  order  for 
ninety  days  by  the  gentleman,  who  is  Monsieur 
Birotteau.     You  understand  ?" 

Du  Tillet  served  some  pate,  poured  out  a  glass  of 
Bordeaux  wine  for  the  perfumer,  who,  seeing  that 
he  was  saved,  indulged  in  convulsive  laughter ;  he 
dallied  with  his  watch-chain,   and  put  nothing  in 


300  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

his  mouth  until  his  former  clerk  said  to  him: 
"You  are  not  eating?"  Thus  did  Birotteau  make 
known  the  depth  of  the  abyss  into  which  Du 
Tillet's  hand  had  plunged  him,  from  which  it  was 
rescuing  him,  whither  it  could  plunge  him  once 
more.  When  the  cashier  returned,  after  having 
signed  the  note,  C^sar  felt  the  ten  bank  bills  in  his 
pocket,  he  could  no  longer  contain  himself.  A 
moment  before,  his  section,  the  Bank,  were  going 
to  know  that  he  was  insolvent,  and  he  must  con- 
fess to  his  wife  that  he  was  ruined;  now  all  was 
set  right  again!  The  happiness  of  his  deliver- 
ance was  equal  in  intensity  to  the  tortures  of 
defeat.  The  poor  man's  eyes  became  moist  in 
spite  of  him. 

"What  ails  you,  then,  my  dear  master.?"  asked 
Du  Tillet.  "Would  you  not  do  for  me  to-morrow 
what  1  am  doing  to-day  for  you.?  Is  it  not  as  simple 
as  saying  good-day.?" 

"Da  Tillet, "  the  good  man  said,  emphatically  and 
gravely,  as  he  rose  and  grasped  his  former  clerk's 
hand,  "1  feel  again  for  you  all  the  esteem  in  my 
power." 

"What!  had  I  lost  it.?"  asked  Du  Tillet,  feeling 
himself  so  severely  hurt  in  the  midst  of  his  prosper- 
ity that  he  blushed. 

"Lost — not  exactly,"  said  the  perfumer,  dum- 
founded  by  his  blunder;  "1  had  been  told  things 
about  your  relations  with  Madame  Roguin.  The 
devil !  to  take  another  man's  wife — " 

"You   are  breaking  the  bauble,   old  man,"  Du 


IN  MISFORTUNE  301 

Tillet  bethought  himself,  using  an  expression  be- 
longing to  his  former  trade. 

While  forming  this  phrase  in  his  own  mind,  he 
went  back  to  his  scheme  of  beating  down  that  vir- 
tuous man,  of  trampling  him  under  foot,  of  making 
contemptible  in  the  streets  of  Paris  the  virtuous  and 
honorable  man  by  whom  he  had  been  caught  with 
his  hand  in  the  drawer.  Every  hate,  whether  politi- 
cal or  private,  of  woman  for  woman,  of  man  for 
man,  has  no  other  foundation  than  such  a  surprise. 
One  does  not  hate  oneself  for  interests  compro- 
mised, for  a  wound,  nor  even  for  a  box  on  the 
ear;  reparation  can  be  made  for  all  that.  But  to 
have  been  caught  in  the  very  act  of  villainy? — • 
the  duel  that  ensues  between  the  criminal  and  the 
witness  to  the  crime  ends  only  with  the  death 
of  one. 

"Oh!  Madame  Roguin,"  said  Du  Tillet,  in  a  ban- 
tering tone;  "but  is  it  not,  on  the  contrary,  a 
feather  in  a  young  man's  cap.''  I  understand  you, 
my  dear  master:  some  one  may  have  told  you  that 
she  had  loaned  me  money.  Well,  quite  the  con- 
trary, 1  have  restored  her  fortune,  which  had  been 
strangely  compromised  in  her  husband's  affairs. 
The  origin  of  my  fortune  is  pure.  I  have  just  told 
you  so.  I  had  nothing,  as  you  know!  Young  men 
sometimes  fmd  themselves  in  frightful  straits.  One 
may  allow  himself  to  fall  into  the  depths  of  misery. 
But  if,  like  the  Republic,  one  has  made  forced  loans, 
well,  one  pays  them  back,  and  one  is  then  more 
honest  than  France." 


302  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

"That's  so,"  said  Birotteau.  "My  boy — God — 
Is  it  not  Voltaire  wiio  has  said : 

"  '  He  made  of  repentance  the  virtue  of  mortals?'" 

"Provided,"  continued  Du  Tillet,  again  stabbed 
by  this  quotation,  "that  one  does  not  run  away 
with  his  neighbor's  fortune,  heartlessly,  basely,  as, 
for  example,  if  you  were  to  go  into  insolvency 
within  three  months  and  my  ten  thousand  francs 
went  up  in  smoke — " 

"I  go  into  insolvency!"  said  Birotteau,  who  had 
drunk  three  glasses  of  wine,  and  who  was  becoming 
fuddled  with  delight.  "People  know  my  opinion  of 
insolvency !  Insolvency  is  death  to  a  trader.  1 
would  die!" 

"To  your  health,"  said  Du  Tillet. 

"To  your  prosperity,"  returned  the  perfumer. 
"Why  don't  you  buy  your  goods  at  my  place?" 

"Faith,"  said  Du  Tillet,  "I  must  acknowledge 
that  I  am  afraid  of  Madame  Cesar.  She  always 
makes  an  impression  on  me!  and  if  you  were  not 
my  master,  faith,  I — " 

"Ah!  you  are  not  the  first  to  find  her  attractive, 
and  many  have  desired  her;  but  she  loves  me! 
Well,  Du  Tillet,"  continued  Birotteau,  "my  friend, 
do  not  do  things  by  halves." 

"How.?" 

Birotteau  explained  the  matter  of  the  land  to 
Du  Tillet,  whose  eyes  became  dilated,  and  he 
complimented  the  perfumer  on  his  penetration 
and  foresight,  bespeaking  wonders  for  that  affair. 


IN  MISFORTUNE  303 

"Well,  I  am  very  glad  of  your  approbation;  you 
pass  for  one  of  the  able  men  of  the  banking  world, 
Du  Tillet!  Dear  boy,  you  can  procure  me  a  credit 
at  the  Bank  of  France  until  I  realize  the  profits  on 
the  Cephalic  Oil." 

"1  can  introduce  you  to  the  Nucingen  house," 
Du  Tillet  replied,  promising  himself  that  he  would 
make  his  victim  dance  all  the  figures  of  the  country- 
dance  of  insolvents. 

Ferdinand  sat  down  at  his  desk  and  wrote  the 
following  letter: 

TO  THE  BARON  DE  NUCINGEN,  PARIS. 

"  MY  DEAR  Baron, 

"The  bearer  of  this  letter  is  Monsieur  Ce'sar  Birotteau, 
deputy  to  the  mayor  of  the  second  arrondissement,  and  one 
of  the  most  renowned  traders  in  the  perfumery  busmess  in 
Paris ;  he  desires  to  enter  into  relations  with  you  :  do  confi- 
dently whatever  he  may  ask  of  you ;  by  obliging  him  you 
oblige 

"  Your  friend, 

"F.  DU  TILLET." 

Du  Tillet  did  not  put  a  dot  over  the  /  in  his  name. 
To  those  with  whom  he  carried  on  business  this  vol- 
untary error  was  a  conventional  sign.  The  most 
urgent  recommendations,  the  warm  and  favorable 
insistence  of  his  letter  meant  nothing,  then.  Such 
a  letter,  in  which  exclamation  points  entreated,  in 
which  Du  Tillet  went,  as  it  were,  on  his  knees,  was 
then  wrung  by  powerful  considerations;  he  had  not 
been  able  to  refuse  it ;  it  must  be  regarded  as  not  hav- 
ing reached  its  destination.    On  seeing  the  i  without 


304  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

the  dot,  his  friend  then  gave  the  cold  shoulder  to 
him  who  solicited.  Many  people  of  the  world,  and 
some  of  the  most  important,  are  thus  trifled  with  by 
business  men,  as  if  they  were  children,  and  by 
bankers  and  lawyers,  all  of  whom  have  a  double 
signature,  one  negative,  the  other  positive.  The 
shrewdest  are  caught  by  it  To  recognize  this 
trick,  it  is  necessary  to  have  experienced  the 
double  effect  of  a  warm  letter  and  of  a  cold  letter. 

"You  are  saving  me,  Du  Tillet!"  said  Cesar,  as 
he  read  this  letter. 

"Good  Heavens,"  said  Du  Tillet,  "go  and  ask  for 
money.  Nucingen,  on  reading  my  note,  will  give 
you  as  much  as  you  want.  Unfortunately,  my 
cash  is  tied  up  for  some  days;  otherwise  I  would 
not  send  you  to  the  prince  of  higher  banking,  for 
the  Kellers  are  only  pigmies  compared  with  the 
Baron  de  Nucingen.  It  is  Law  reappearing  in 
Nucingen.  With  my  letter  you  will  be  all  right 
by  January  15,  and  we  will  see  to  it  after  that. 
Nucingen  and  I  are  the  best  friends  in  the  world; 
he  would  not  disoblige  me  for  a  million." 

"it  is  like  an  endorsement,"  Birotteau  said  to 
himself,  as  he  went  away  filled  with  gratitude 
toward  Du  Tillet.  "Well,"  he  thought,  "a  kind- 
ness is  never  lost." 

And  he  philosophized  out  of  sight.  Yet  a  thought 
soured  his  happiness.  He  had  indeed  for  some  days 
kept  his  wife  from  thrusting  her  nose  into  the 
books,  he  had  turned  over  the  cash  drawer  to  Celes- 
tin  while  assisting  him,  he  had  been  able  to  wish 


IN  MISFORTUNE 


"  Yes,  mannna"  exclaimed  Cesarine.  ''Biit,fatJLer 
ivas  very  courageous.  All  that  I  i<.'isJi  is  to  be  loved 
as  he  loves  you.     He  thought  ouly  of  your  grief !' 

''My  dream  has  come  true"  said  the  poor  woman, 
as  she  let  herself  fall  on  her  sofa  by  the  f re-place, 
pale,  wan  and  frightened-looking.  "/  had  foreseen 
everytJung.  I  told  you  so  on  that  fatal  night,  in  our 
old  room  zuhich  you  have  demolished,  there  would 
remain  to  us  only  eyes  to  zveep  zvith.  My  poor 
Cesarine  !    I — " 


11^'  ■.■-Bi'l 


I/) x- 


IN  MISFORTUNE  305 

that  his  wife  and  daughter  had  the  enjoyment  of 
the  fine  apartments  that  he  had  arranged  and  fur- 
nished for  them;  but,  these  first  minor  pleasures 
having  been  exhausted,  Madame  Birotteau  would 
rather  be  dead  than  give  up  seeing  for  herself  to  the 
details  of  her  house,  give  up,  as  she  herself  expressed 
it,  holding  the  handle  of  the  frying-pan.  Birotteau 
found  himself  at  the  end  of  his  tether;  he  had  used 
all  his  artifices  to  conceal  from  his  wife  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  symptoms  of  his  distress.  Constance 
had  strongly  disapproved  of  the  sending  out  of  the 
bills,  she  had  grumbled  at  the  clerks,  and  accused 
Celestinof  wanting  to  ruin  her  house,  thinking  that 
Celestin  alone  was  responsible  for  this  idea.  By 
Birotteau's  orders,  Celestin  allowed  himself  to  be 
scolded.  Madame  Cesar,  in  the  clerk's  eyes,  ruled 
the  perfumer,  for  it  is  possible  to  deceive  the  pub- 
lic, but  not  the  members  of  the  household,  regarding 
who  has  the  real  superiority  in  an  establishment. 
Birotteau  must  confess  his  predicament  to  his  wife, 
for  the  account  with  Du  Tillet  was  going  to  be 
worth  a  justification.  On  his  return,  Birotteau 
trembled  when  he  saw  Constance  at  her  desk,  veri- 
fying the  book  of  bills  falling  due  and,  no  doubt, 
counting  the  cash. 

"What  have  you  to  pay  with  to-morrow?"  she 
asked  in  a  whisper  when  he  sat  down  beside  her. 

"Money,"  he  replied,  as  he  drew  out  his  bank- 
notes and  made  a  sign  to  Celestin  to  take  them. 

"But  where  do  they  come  from?" 

"I  will   tell  you  that   this   evening.     Celestin, 
20 


306  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

write,  end  of  March,  a  note  for  ten  thousand  francs, 
to  the  order  of  Du  Tillet." 

"Du  Tillet!"  Constance  repeated,  terror-stricken. 

"I  am  about  to  see  Popinot,"  said  Cesar.  "It  is 
wrong  for  me  not  to  have  gone  before  now  to  visit  him 
at  his  own  place.     Are  they  selling  any  of  his  oil  ?" 

"The  three  hundred  bottles  that  he  left  with  us 
are  gone." 

"Birotteau,  don't  go  out,  I  have  something  to  say 
to  you,"  said  Constance,  as  she  took  Cesar  by  the 
arm  and  led  him  to  her  room  with  a  haste  that  in 
any  other  circumstances  would  have  excited  laugh- 
ter. "Du  Tillet!"  she  said,  when  she  was  alone 
with  her  husband,  and  after  having  made  sure  that 
only  Cesarine  was  with  her,  "Du  Tillet,  who  stole 
a  thousand  crowns  from  us !  You  are  doing  business 
with  Du  Tillet,  a  monster — who  tempted  my  fidel- 
ity," she  whispered  in  his  ear. 

"A  youthful  folly,"  said  Birotteau,  who  had  sud- 
denly become  strong-minded. 

"Listen,  Birotteau,  you  are  going  crazy,  you  do 
not  go  any  more  to  the  factory.  1  feel  that  there  is 
something  wrong!  You  must  tell  me  what  it  is.  I 
want  to  know  everything." 

"Well,"  said  Birotteau,  "we  have  come  near  be- 
ing ruined,  we  were  even  so  this  morning,  but 
everything  is  all  right  now." 

And  he  narrated  the  horrible  story  of  his  fort- 
night. 

"That,  then,  was  the  cause  of  your  illness!" 
Constance  exclaimed. 


IN  MISFORTUNE  307 

"Yes,  mamma,"  exclaimed  Cesarine.  "But, 
father  was  very  courageous.  All  that  1  wish  is  to 
be  loved  as  he  loves  you.  He  thought  only  of  your 
grief." 

"My  dream  has  come  true,"  said  the  poor  woman, 
as  she  let  herself  fall  on  her  sofa  by  the  fire-place, 
pale,  wan  and  frightened-looking.  "I  had  foreseen 
everything.  I  told  you  so  on  that  fatal  night,  in 
our  old  room  which  you  have  demolished,  there 
would  remain  to  us  only  eyes  to  weep  with.  My 
poor  Cesarine!    1 — " 

"Come,  just  look  at  you,"  exclaimed  Birotteau. 
"You  are  not  going  to  rob  me  of  the  courage  that  I 
need!" 

"Pardon,  my  love,"  said  Constance,  as  she 
took  hold  of  Cesar's  hand  and  pressed  it  with  a  ten- 
derness that  went  to  the  poor  man's  heart  "1  am 
wrong.  Here  is  misfortune  come  upon  us.  I  will  be 
silent,  resigned  and  full  of  strength.  No,  you  will 
never  hear  a  word  of  complaint." 

She  threw  herself  into  Cesar's  arms,  and  there 
said  as  she  wept : 

"Courage,  my  love,  courage!  I  shall  have  enough 
for  two  if  it  be  needed." 

"My  oil,  wife,  my  oil  will  save  us." 

"May  God  protect  us!"  said  Constance. 

"Will  not  Anselme,  then,  assist  my  father.-*"  said 
Cesarine. 

"I  am  going  to  see  him,"  exclaimed  Cesar,  too 
much  moved  by  his  wife's  heart-rending  tone,  for 
she  had  not  been  fully  known  to  him  even  after 


3o8  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

nineteen  years.  "Constance,  do  not  fear  any 
longer.  Here,  read  Du  Tillet's  letter  to  Monsieur  de 
Nucingen.  We  are  sure  of  a  credit.  Between  now 
and  then  I  will  have  won  my  lawsuit.  Besides," 
he  added,  as  he  told  a  necessary  fib,  "we  have  our 
uncle  Pillerault;  it  is  only  necessary  to  be  cour- 
ageous." 

"If  that  were  the  only  question!"  said  Con- 
stance, smiling. 

Birotteau,  relieved  of  one  great  weight,  walked 
like  a  man  just  set  at  liberty,  though  he  felt  in  him- 
self the  indefinable  exhaustion  that  follows  exces- 
sive moral  struggles  in  which  is  spent  more  nervous 
fluid,  more  will-power,  than  one  ought  to  give  out 
dail)'',  and  from  which  one  takes,  so  to  say,  part  of 
the  capital  of  existence.  Birotteau  had  already 
grown  old. 

The  house  of  A.  Popinot,  in  the  Rue  des  Cinq- 
Diamants,  had  changed  considerably  within  two 
months.  The  shop  had  been  repainted.  The 
shelves,  newly  done  up  and  filled  with  bottles, 
delighted  the  eye  of  every  trader  who  knows  the 
symptoms  of  prosperity.  The  shop  floor  was  lit- 
tered with  packing  paper.  The  store  contained 
small  casks  of  various  oils,  the  agency  for  which 
had  been  acquired  for  Popinot  by  the  devoted  Gau- 
dissart.  The  books  and  the  counting-room,  as  well 
as  the  cashier's  office,  were  over  the  shop  and  the 
rear  shop.  An  old  cook  did  the  housekeeping  for 
three  clerks  and  Popinot.  Popinot,  confined  in  a 
corner  of  the  shop  and  behind  a  desk  enclosed  with 


IN  MISFORTUNE  309 

glass,  appeared  in  a  serge  apron,  with  green  linen 
double  sleeves,  his  pen  behind  his  ear,  when  he  was 
not  buried  in  a  mass  of  papers,  as  at  the  moment 
when  Birotteau  arrived,  at  which  time  he  unloaded 
his  messenger,  who  came  in  burdened  with  remit- 
tances and  orders.  At  these  words:  "Well,  my 
boy,"  spoken  by  his  former  employer,  he  raised  his 
head,  locked  his  cabin,  and  came  out  with  a  joyous 
air  and  the  point  of  his  nose  red.  There  was  no 
fire  in  the  shop  and  its  door  remained  open. 

"I  was  afraid  you  would  never  come,"  Popinot 
replied,  with  a  respectful  bearing. 

The  clerks  ran  to  see  the  great  man  of  the  per- 
fumery business,  the  decorated  deputy,  their  em- 
ployer's partner.  These  mute  homages  flattered 
the  perfumer.  Birotteau,  but  lately  so  small  with 
the  Kellers,  felt  the  need  of  imitating  them:  he 
stroked  his  chin,  with  the  aid  of  his  heels  he 
bounded  in  a  way  suggestive  of  vanity,  at  the  same 
time  giving  expression  to  his  commonplaces. 

"Well,  my  friend,  do  the  folks  get  up  early?" 
he  asked  him. 

"No,  but  they  are  not  always  asleep,"  said  Pop- 
inot; "one  must  cling  to  success." 

"Well,  what  did  I  say?    My  oil  is  a  fortune." 

"Yes,  sir,  but  the  means  of  execution  count  for 
something  in  it:  I  have  given  your  diamond  a  good 
setting." 

"In  reality,"  said  the  perfumer,  "where  are  we? 
Are  there  any  profits?" 

"At  the  end  of  a  month!"    exclaimed   Popinot, 


3IO  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

"are  you  thinking  of  that?  Friend  Gaudissart 
has  been  on  the  road  only  twenty-five  days,  and 
has  hired  a  post-chaise  without  telling  me  of  it. 
Oh!  he  is  very  devoted.  We  will  owe  much  to 
my  uncle!  The  newspapers,"  he  whispered  in 
Birotteau's  ear,  "will  cost  us  twelve  thousand 
francs." 

"The  newspapers!"  exclaimed  the  deputy. 

"You  haven't  read  them,  then?" 

"No." 

"You  know  nothing,  then,"  said  Popinot. 
"Twenty  thousand  francs  for  placards,  frames  and 
prints! — a  hundred  thousand  bottles  bought! — Ah! 
everything  is  sacrifice  at  this  moment.  The  man- 
ufacture is  conducted  on  a  large  scale.  If  you  had 
set  foot  in  the  Faubourg,  where  I  have  spent  many 
nights,  you  would  have  seen  a  small  nut-cracker  of 
my  own  invention  that  is  not  worm-eaten.  On 
my  own  account  I  have  made,  these  last  five  days, 
three  thousand  francs  on  nothing  but  commissions 
on  the  oils  of  the  drug  business." 

"What  a  clear  head!"  said  Birotteau,  laying  his 
hand  on  little  Popinot's  hair  and  stroking  it  as  if 
Popinot  had  been  a  mere  child.     "I  predicted  it." 

Several  persons  came  in. 

"On  Sunday  we  dine  at  your  aunt  Ragon's, "  said 
Birotteau,  who  left  Popinot  to  his  business  when 
he  saw  that  the  young  man  whom  he  had  come  to 
sound  was  not  yet  broken  down.  "Isn't  it  extra- 
ordinary! a  clerk  becomes  a  merchant  in  twenty- 
four  hours,"  thought  Birotteau,  who  could  think  no 


IN  MISFORTUNE  3II 

less  of   Popinot's  happiness  and   stability  than  of 
Du  Tillet's  luxury. 

Birotteau  had  not  dreamt  that  the  clerks  were 
looking  at  him,  and  that  a  head  of  a  house  has  his 
dignity  to  preserve  at  home.  There,  as  at  Du  Til- 
let's,  the  simple-minded  man  had  been  guilty  of  a 
folly  from  goodness  of  heart,  and,  from  want  of  ob- 
serving a  proper  sense  of  delicacy,  expressed  in  the 
middle-class  fashion,  Cesar  would  have  hurt  the 
feelings  of  any  other  man  than  Anselme. 

That  Sunday  dinner  with  the  Ragons  was  to  be 
the  last  joy  of  the  nineteen  happy  years  of  Birot- 
teau's  housekeeping,  and  a  complete  joy  besides. 
Ragon  lived  in  the  Rue  du  Petit-Bourbon-Saint- 
Sulpice,  on  a  third  floor,  in  an  old  house  of  dignified 
appearance,  in  an  old  tenement  with  piers,  where 
danced  nymphs  in  hoop-skirts  and  where  grazed 
sheep  of  that  eighteenth  century  whose  grave  and 
serious  middle  class,  of  comical  manners,  of  respect- 
ful ideas  regarding  the  nobility,  devoted  to  sovereign 
and  to  Church,  was  admirably  represented  by  the 
Ragons.  Furniture,  clocks,  linen,  dishes  and  plates, 
everything,  in  fact,  seemed  to  be  partriarchal,  of 
forms  that  were  new  by  their  very  oldness.  The 
parlor,  hung  with  old  damask,  adorned  with  broca- 
telle  curtains,  displayed  duchess  chairs,  what-nots, 
a  superb  Popinot,  alderman  of  Sancerre,  painted  by 
Latour,  Madame  Ragon's  father,  a  picture  of  a  jolly 
good-fellow,  and  who  smiled  like  an  upstart  in  his 
glory.  At  home  Madame  Ragon  was  not  herself  with- 
out a  little  English  dog — the  King  Charles  Spaniel 


312  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

breed — which  produced  a  marvelous  effect  on 
the  hard  little  sofa,  in  rococo  style,  that  certainly 
had  never  played  the  part  of  Crebillon's  sofa. 
Among  all  their  virtues  the  Ragons  were  noted  for 
a  stock  of  old  wines  that  had  reached  a  perfect 
development,  and  for  owning  some  Madame  Anfoux 
liqueurs,  which  some  people  giddy  enough  to  love 
— hopelessly,  it  was  said, — the  pretty  Madame 
Ragon,  had  brought  from  the  Isles.  And  so  their 
little  dinners  were  prized!  An  old  cook,  Jeannette, 
served  the  two  old  people  with  a  blind  devotedness; 
she  would  have  stolen  fruits  to  make  confections 
for  them  !  Instead  of  taking  her  money  to  a  savings 
bank,  she  wisely  put  it  into  lotteries,  hoping  one 
day  to  draw  a  big  prize  for  her  employers.  On 
the  Sunday  when  they  had  company,  she,  in 
spite  of  her  sixty  years,  superintended  the  dishes 
in  the  kitchen,  and  at  table  served  with  an  agility 
that  would  have  given  points  to  Mademoiselle  Con- 
tat  in  her  role  of  Susanna  in  the  Marriage  of 
Figaro. 

Those  invited  were  Judge  Popinot,  Uncle  Piller- 
ault,  Anselme,  the  three  Birotteaus,  the  three 
Matifats  and  the  Abbe  Loraux.  Madame  Matifat, 
but  lately  having  a  dancing  turban  on  her  head, 
came  in  a  blue  velvet  dress,  thick  cotton  stockings 
and  goat-skin  shoes,  chamois  gloves  trimmed  with 
green  plush,  and  a  hat  turned  up  like  a  rose  and 
decked  with  auriculas.  These  ten  persons  were 
assembled  at  five  o'clock.  The  old  Ragons  en- 
treated their  guests  to  be  punctual.      When  this 


IN  MISFORTUNE  313 

worthy  household  was  invited,  care  was  taken  to 
have  dinner  at  this  hour,  for  those  seventy-year-old 
stomachs  did  not  become  accustomed  to  the  new 
hours  adopted  by  the  swells. 

Cesarine  knew  that  Madame  Ragon  would  place 
her  alongside  of  Anselme:  all  women,  even  the 
devout  and  foolish,  understand  one  another  in  the 
matter  of  love.  The  perfumer's  daughter  had  then 
dressed  herself  so  as  to  turn  Popinot's  head.  Con- 
stance, who  had,  not  without  a  pang,  given  up  the 
notary,  who  played  in  her  thoughts  the  part  of  an 
hereditary  prince,  contributed,  not  without  bitter 
reflections,  to  this  toilet.  This  foreseeing  mother 
lowered  the  modest  gauze  neckerchief  so  as  to  show 
a  little  of  Cesarine's  shoulders  and  expose  the 
throat,  which  was  of  remarkable  elegance.  The 
Greek  bodice,  crossed  from  left  to  right  in  five  folds, 
could  be  opened  so  as  to  show  captivating  fulness. 
The  lead-gray  merino  dress,  with  furbelows  trimmed 
with  green  embellishments,  clearly  outlined  a  figure 
that  had  never  appeared  so  fine  or  so  lithesome. 
The  ears  were  adorned  with  wrought  gold  pendants. 
The  hair,  done  up  in  Chinese  fashion,  allowed  one 
to  take  in  at  a  glance  the  sweet  freshness  of  a  skin 
shaded  with  veins  througn  which  the  purest  life 
shone  at  the  pale  places.  In  fine,  Cesarine  was  so 
takingly  pretty  that  Madame  Matifat  could  not  help 
acknowledging  it,  without  perceiving  that  mother 
and  daughter  had  understood  the  necessity  of  be- 
witching little  Popinot. 

Neither   Birotteau,    nor    his   wife,    nor    Madame 


314  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

Matifat,  no  one,  in  fact,  disturbed  the  sweet  conver- 
sation that  the  two  young  people,  inflamed  by  love, 
were  carrying  on  in  a  low  voice  in  a  window  recess 
where  the  cold  was  blowing  its  penetrating  north 
wind.  Besides,  the  conversation  of  the  great  per- 
sonages became  animated  when  Judge  Popinot  let 
a  word  slip  regarding  Roguin's  flight,  remarking 
that  he  was  the  second  notary  who  had  failed,  and 
that  such  a  crime  was  formerly  unknown.  Madame 
Ragon,  on  hearing  Roguin's  name,  touched  her 
brother's  foot.  Pillerault  hushed  the  Judge's  voice 
and  both  called  his  attention  to  Madame  Birotteau. 

"I  know  all,"  said  Constance  to  her  friends,  in  a 
voice  at  the  same  time  mild  and  painful. 

"Well,"  said  Madame  Matifat  to  Birotteau,  who 
humbly  bowed  his  head,  "how  much  has  he  taken 
from  you?  If  one  were  to  listen  to  gossipings,  you 
are  ruined." 

"He  had  two  hundred  thousand  francs  of  mine. 
As  for  the  forty  that  he  had  loaned  to  me  in  imagi- 
nation by  one  of  his  clients,  whose  money  was 
squandered  by  him,  we  are  in  litigation." 

"You  will  have  a  verdict  rendered  this  week," 
said  Popinot.  "1  felt  that  you  would  not  want  me 
to  explain  your  situation  to  the  presiding  judge;  he 
has  ordered  the  production  of  Roguin's  papers  in  the 
council  chamber,  so  as  to  examine  from  what  period 
the  lender's  funds  were  diverted  and  the  proofs  of 
the  fact  alleged  by  Derville,  who  himself  pleaded  so 
as  to  save  you  costs." 

"Shall  we  win.?"  asked  Madame  Birotteau. 


IN  MISFORTUNE  315 

"I  do  not  know,"  Popinot  replied.  "Though  I  be- 
long to  the  court-room  to  which  the  matter  has  been 
referred,  I  will  abstain  from  taking  part,  even 
should  they  call  on  me." 

"But  can  there  be  any  doubt  on  the  issue  of  so 
simple  a  trial?"  asked  Pillerault.  "Should  not  the 
receipt  mention  the  delivery  of  the  goods,  and  the 
notaries  declare  having  seen  them  given  by  the 
lender  to  the  borrower?  Roguin  would  go  to  the 
galleys  if  he  were  in  the  hands  of  justice." 

"In  my  opinion,"  replied  the  judge,  "the  lender 
ought  to  protect  himself  against  Roguin  on  the  price 
paid  for  the  office  and  the  security;  but,  in  matters 
still  more  clear,  sometimes,  in  the  royal  court, 
judges  are  found  six  to  six." 

"What,  Mademoiselle,  Monsieur  Roguin  has 
fled?"  said  Popinot,  as  he  at  last  heard  what  was 
being  talked  about.  "Monsieur  Cesar  has  said 
nothing  of  it  to  me,  to  me  who  would  give  my  life's 
blood  for  him — " 

Cesarine  understood  that  the  whole  family  stuck 
to  this  for  him,  for,  if  the  innocent  girl  had  misun- 
derstood the  emphasis,  she  could  not  be  deceived  as 
to  the  look  that  enveloped  him   in  a  purple  flame. 

"I  was  well  aware  of  it,  and  I  told  him  so,  but  he 
concealed  everything  from  my  mother  and  confided 
only  in  me." 

"You  have  spoken  to  him  of  me,  in  this  connec- 
tion," said  Popinot;  "you  read  in  my  heart,  but  do 
you  read  all  in  it?" 

"Perhaps." 


3l6  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

"I  am  very  happy,"  said  Popinot.  *'If  you  wish 
to  rid  me  of  all  fear,  in  a  year  I  will  be  so  rich  that 
your  father  will  no  longer  receive  me  so  coldly 
when  I  speak  to  him  of  our  marriage.  I  am  going 
hereafter  to  sleep  only  five  hours  a  night — " 

"Do  not  do  yourself  an  injustice,"  said  Cesarine, 
in  an  inimitable  tone,  as  she  cast  on  Popinot  a  look 
in  which  her  whole  thought  was  read. 

"Wife,"  said  Cesar,  as  he  was  leaving  table,  "I 
think  these  young  people  love  each  other." 

"Well,  so  much  the  better,"  said  Constance,  in 
a  grave  tone  of  voice;  "my  daughter  will  be  the 
wife  of  a  man  of  ability  and  great  energy.  Talent 
is  the  finest  gift  of  a  future  husband." 

She  hastily  left  the  parlor  and  went  into  Madame 
Ragon's  room.  Cesar,  during  dinner,  had  spoken  a 
few  phrases  that  made  Pillerault  and  the  judge 
smile,  so  much  ignorance  did  they  betray,  and  that 
reminded  that  unfortunate  woman  how  little  strength 
her  poor  husband  had  to  struggle  against  misfor- 
tune. Constance  wept  from  her  heart;  she  instinc- 
tively distrusted  Du  Tillet,  for  all  mothers  know  the 
Timeo  Danaos  et  dona  ferentes  without  knowing 
Latin. 

She  wept  in  her  daughter's  and  Madame  Ragon's 
arms,  without  wishing  to  acknowledge  the  cause  of 
her  suffering. 

"It  is  nervousness,"  she  said. 

The  rest  of  the  evening  was  given  up  to  cards 
by  the  old  folks,  and  by  the  young  to  those  delight- 
ful little  games  called  innocent,  because  they  cloak 


IN  MISFORTUNE  317 

the  innocent  mischief  of  middle-class  love.  The 
Matifats  interested  themselves  in  the  little  games. 

"Cesar,"  said  Constance,  while  returning,"go  not 
later  than  the  eighth  to  Baron  de  Nucingen's,  so  as  to 
make  sure  long  in  advance  for  your  bills  falling  due 
on  the  fifteenth.  If  any  difficulty  should  arise,  is 
it  between  to-day  and  to-morrow  that  you  would 
find  resources.?" 

"I  will  go,  wife,"  replied  Cesar,  who  clasped 
Constance's  hand  and  that  of  his  daughter,  as  he 
added:  "My  sweet  darlings,  I  have  made  you  sad 
New  Year's  presents!" 

In  the  darkness  of  the  hackney-coach,  these  two 
women,  who  could  not  see  the  poor  perfumer,  felt 
warm  tears  fall  on  their  hands. 

"Hope,  my  love,"  said  Constance. 

"Everything  will  be  well,  papa;  Monsieur 
Anselme  Popinot  has  told  me  that  he  would  shed 
his  blood  for  you." 

"For  me,"  rejoined  Cesar,  "and  for  the  family,  is 
it  not?"  he  said,  assuming  a  cheerful  tone. 

Cesarine  clasped  her  father's  hand,  as  though  to 
tell  him  that  Anselme  was  her  betrothed. 


During  the  first  three  days  of  the  year  two  hun- 
dred cards  were  sent  to  Birotteau's  house.  This 
affluence  of  moci<  friendship,  these  testimonies  of 
favor,  are  horrible  to  people  who  see  themselves 
swept  on  by  the  current  of  misfortune.  Birotteau 
three  times  visited  in  vain  the  residence  of  the 
famous  banker,  the  Baron  de  Nucingen.  The  open- 
ing of  the  year  and  its  feasts  sufficiently  justified 
the  financier's  absence.  The  last  time  the  perfumer 
penetrated  as  far  as  the  banker's  office,  where  the 
chief  clerk,  a  German,  told  him  that  Monsieur  de 
Nucingen,  having  returned  at  five  o'clock  in  the 
morning  from  a  ball  given  by  the  Kellers,  could  not 
be  seen  at  half-past  nine.  Birotteau  knew  how  to 
interest  the  chief  clerk  in  his  affairs,  and  with  him 
he  remained  chatting  for  nearly  half  an  hour.  Dur- 
ing the  day  this  minister  of  the  Nucingen  house 
wrote  to  him  to  say  that  the  Baron  would  receive 
him  the  next  day,  the  third,  at  noon.  Though  each 
hour  brought  its  drop  of  bitterness,  the  day  passed 
with  frightful  rapidity.  The  perfumer  came  in  a  hack, 
and  stopped  within  one  pace  of  the  house,  the  court- 
yard of  which  was  filled  with  carriages.  The  poor, 
honest  man's  heart  became  quite  depressed  at  sight 
of  the  splendors  of  this  famous  house. 

"And  yet  he  has  failed  twice,"  he  said  to  himself 

(319) 


320  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

as  he  ascended  the  superb  stairway,  decked  with 
flowers,  and  passed  through  the  sumptuous  apart- 
ments for  which  the  Baroness  Delphine  de  Nucingen 
had  made  herself  famous.  The  Baroness  pretended 
to  rival  the  richest  houses  of  the  Faubourg  Saint- 
Germain,  where  she  had  not  yet  been  admitted. 
The  baron  was  breakfasting  with  his  wife.  In 
spite  of  the  number  of  people  who  were  waiting 
for  him  in  his  office,  he  said  that  Du  Tillet's  friends 
could  enter  at  any  hour.  Birotteau  bounded  with 
hope  as  he  saw  the  change  that  the  baron's  words 
had  produced  on  the  valet's  countenance,  insolent  as 
it  was  at  first. 

"Bardon  me,  mein  tear,"  said  the  Baron  to  his 
wife  as  he  arose  and  made  a  slight  inclination  of 
the  head  to  Birotteau,  "mein  shentleman  eez  ein  goot 
royalizt  ant  de  fery  indimade  frient  of  Ti  Dilet 
Moreofer,  de  shentleman  is  tebudy  of  de  zegund  ar- 
rontizement  ant  gifs  palls  of  a  Hasiadig  macnivi- 
zenze;  you  vill  no  toudt  pe  bleased  making  agvain- 
dance  ov  him." 

"But  I  would  be  very  much  flattered  to  go  and 
take  lessons  from  Madame  Birotteau  at  her  home, 
for  Ferdinand — (Come,  thought  the  perfumer,  she 
calls  him  plain  Ferdinand !) — has  spoken  to  us  of  that 
ball  with  an  admiration  so  much  the  more  remark- 
able as  he  admires  nothing.  Ferdinand  is  a  severe 
critic,  everything  must  be  perfect.  Will  you  soon 
give  another?"  she  asked  in  the  most  amiable 
manner. 

"Madame,    poor    people    like    us    rarely    amuse 


AT  THE  BAROX  DE  NUCIXGEN'S 


"  Mt  his  Icddcr  you  liaf  ad  vicin  oitsc  cin  gretid 
vat  is  liniidcd  pud  py  tc  poiindts  of  nicin  (ni<n 
iwrtchen — " 

The  exhilarating  balm  contained  in  the  zcater 
presented  by  the  angel  to  Agar  in  the  desert  must 
have  resembled  the  detv  deposited  in  the  perfumer  s 
veins  by  these  half-Germa7i  ivords.  *   *   * 

There  came  into  the  room  i?i  a  familiar  way  a 
young  man  zi'hose  step,  recognized  from  afar  by 
Delphine  de  Nucingen,  had  made  her  blush  deeply. 


IN  MISFORTUNE  $21 

themselves,"  replied  the  perfumer,  not  knowing 
whether  it  was  raillery  or  cheap  compliment. 

"Meinnesir  Crintod  tiregded  the  rezdorazion  of 
your  abardmends,"  said  the  Baron. 

"Ah!  Grindot!  a  fine  little  architect  who  has 
just  returned  from  Rome?"  said  Delphine  de  Nucin- 
gen.  "I  dote  on  him;  he  draws  such  delightful 
designs  in  my  album." 

No  conspirator  bedeviled  by  the  Venetian  inquis- 
itor was  more  ill  at  ease  in  the  rack  of  torture  than 
was  Birotteau  in  his  clothes.  He  detected  a  banter- 
ing air  in  every  word. 

"Vee  gifs  alzo  de  leedle  palls,"  said  the  baron, 
as  he  cast  an  inquisitive  look  on  the  perfumer. 
"You  zee  vat  de  vorldt  zays  blainly !" 

"Will  Monsieur  Birotteau  breakfast  unceremo- 
niously with  us?"  said  Delphine,  as  she  pointed  to 
her  sumptuously-supplied  table. 

"Baroness,  1  have  come  on  business  and  am — " 

"Yez,"  said  the  baron.  "Matam,  bermid  uz  to 
sbeag  of  pizniss?" 

Delphine  made  a  slight  sign  of  assent  as  she  said 
to  the  baron : 

"Are  you  going  to  buy  perfumery?" 

The  baron  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  turned 
towards  Cesar,  who  felt  desperate. 

"Ti  Dilet  dages  de  geenest  inderest  in  you,"  he 
said. 

"At  last,"  thought  the  poor  merchant,  "we  are 
coming  to  the  question." 

"Vit  his  ledder  you  haf  ad  mein  ouze  ein  gretid 

21 


322  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

vat  is  limided  pud  py  te  poundts  of  mein  own 
vortchen — " 

The  exhilarating  balm  contained  in  the  water 
presented  by  the  angel  to  Agar  in  the  desert  must 
have  resembled  the  dew  deposited  in  the  perfumer's 
veins  by  these  half-German  words.  The  astute 
baron,  in  order  to  have  reasons  for  going  back  on 
words  well  thought  out  and  but  indistinctly  heard, 
had  adopted  the  horrible  accent  of  the  German  Jews, 
who  flatter  themselves  they  know  how  to  speak 
the  language  of  the  country  they  dwell  in. 

"Undt  you  vill  haf  ein  gurrendt  aggoundt.  Zee 
how  vee  vill  brozeedt,"  the  good,  the  venerable  and 
the  great  financier  said  with  Alsatian  good-nature. 

Birotteau  no  longer  doubted  of  anything.  He  was 
a  man  of  trade  and  knew  those  who  are  not  disposed 
to  oblige  never  enter  into  details  as  to  the  carrying 
out  of  suggestions. 

"I  vill  not  dell  you  dat  of  de  crate  as  veil  as  of 
de  leedle  de  Pangk  temandts  dree  zignadures.  Den, 
you  vill  pring  your  nodes  to  de  ordter  off  our  vrient, 
Ti  Dilet,  und  1  vill  sent  dem  de  same  tay  vit  mein 
zignadure  to  de  Pangk,  and  you  vill  haf  in  vore 
hours  de  ordter  vor  de  nodes  dat  you  vill  haf  zup- 
zcriped  in  de  morning,  und  ad  de  Pangk  rades.  I 
vish  needer  kemmission,  nor  disgount,  notings, 
vor  1  vill  av  de  blezhur  of  peing  acreaple  doo  you — 
yed  I  bud  vun  gundission !"  he  said,  putting  his  left 
index  fmger  to  his  nose  with  a  gesture  of  inimitable 
artifice. 

"Baron,  it  is  granted  already,"  said  Birotteau, 


IN  MISFORTUNE  323 

who  thought  of  some  advance  discount  on  what  was 
coming  to  him. 

"Von  gondission  to  vich  I  addadge  de  greadest  im- 
bordance,  pegauze  1  vish  Matame  ti  Nicinguenne 
dakes,  az  zhe  haz  sed,  de  leszuns  of  Matame 
Pirodot." 

"Baron,  do  not  make  fun  of  me,  I  entreat  you !" 

"Meinnesir  Pirodot,"  said  the  financier,  in  a  seri- 
ous tone,  "id  iz  accreed,  you  vill  infide  uz  doo 
your  negst  pall.  Mein  vife  iz  chellus,  zhe  vants 
doo  zee  your  abbardemends,  vor  effery  potty  say 
ein  goodt  vordt  of  dem. " 

"Baron!" 

"Oh!  eev  you  revoose  uz,  no  aggoundt!  you  pee 
in  great  vafor.  Yah!  I  am  avare  dat  you  haf  de 
brevet  of  de  Seine  dat  haf  come  to  you." 

"Baron!" 

"You  haf  La  Pillarti^re,  a  shentleman  ortinary  of 
de  Shamper,  Fenteheine,  as  you  as  vas  vounted 
— ad  Sainte — " 

"On  the  thirteenth  Vendemiaire,  Baron." 

"You  hat  Meinnesir  de  Lassebette,  Meinnesir, 
Fauqueleine  of  the  Agatemee— " 

"Baron!" 

"Eh!  der  teufel,  don't  be  zo  motest,  Meisder 
Tebudy.  I  learn  dat  de  ging  haz  sedt  dat  your 
pall—" 

"The  king.?"  said  Birotteau,  who  could  not  bear 
to  hear  any  more  of  it. 

There  came  into  the  room  in  a  familiar  way 
a   young   man    whose   step,    recognized   from   afar 


324  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

by  Delphine  de  Nucingen,  had  made  her  blush 
deeply. 

"Coot  tay,  mein  tear  Te  Marsay, "  said  Baron  de 
Nucingen,  "dake  my  blace;  there  is,  1  haf  peen  dolt, 
a  heabing  vire  in  mein  offeez.  I  know  de  reason! 
de  Vortschinne  mines  gif  two  gabidals  in  ingome! 
Yah,  I  haf  receefed  the  aggounts !  you  haf  ein  hun- 
dert  tousandt  vrancs  of  ingome  more,  Matame  ti 
Nicinguenne.  You  gan  puy  choindures  und  all  de 
pauples  you  vandt  do  pe  breddy,  as  eef  you  neeted 
dem." 

"Great  God !  the  Ragons  have  sold  their  shares !" 
exclaimed  Birotteau. 

"Who  are  these  gentlemen?"  asked  the  young  fop, 
smiling. 

"Zee,"  said  Monsieur  de  Nucingen,  as  he  turned 
back,  for  he  had  already  reached  the  door,  "id  zeems 
do  me  as  dese  bersons — Te  Marsay,  diess  iz  Men- 
nesire  Pirodot,  your  berfeumer,  as  gifs  dem  palls  zo 
macnivizendt  Asiatic,  whom  der  ging  haz  tegor- 
adet— " 

De  Marsay  put  on  his  eye-glass  and  said: 

"Ah!  true.  I  thought  that  this  figure  was  not  un- 
known to  me.  You  are  going,  then,  to  perfume 
your  business  with  some  effective  cosmetic,  to  oil 
it?—" 

"Veil,  dese  Rakhons,"  continued  the  baron,  mak- 
ing a  grimace  like  a  man  who  is  dissatisfied,  "haf 
ein  aggount  mit  me,  who  haf  vafored  dem  mit  ein 
vorchun,  und  dey  haf  nod  batience  do  vait  von  tay 


more." 


IN  MISFORTUNE  325 

"Baron!"  exclaimed  Birotteau, 

The  poor  man  found  his  business  very  much  in 
the  dark,  and,  without  saluting  either  the  Baroness 
or  De  Marsay,  he  ran  after  the  banker.  Monsieur 
de  Nucingen  was  on  the  first  step  of  the  stairs;  the 
perfumer  overtook  him  at  the  bottom  as  he  was  en- 
tering his  office.  On  opening  the  door,  Monsieur  de 
Nucingen  observed  a  despairing  gesture  of  this  poor 
creature,  who  felt  as  if  he  was  sinking  into  an  abyss, 
and  said  to  him  : 

"Veil,  id  iz  unterstoot?  Zee  Ti  Dilet,  und 
arrainsh  eferyting  mit  heem." 

Birotteau  thought  that  De  Marsay  could  influence 
the  baron.  He  went  up  the  stairs  again  with  the 
rapidity  of  a  swallow,  glided  into  the  dining-room, 
where  the  baroness  and  De  Marsay  might  yet  be 
found :  he  had  left  Delphine  waiting  for  her  coffee 
with  cream.  He  indeed  saw  the  coffee  poured  out, 
but  the  baroness  and  the  young  fop  had  disappeared. 
The  valet  smiled  at  the  astonishment  of  the  per- 
fumer, who  went  down  the  stairs  slowly.  Cesar 
ran  to  Du  Tillet's,  who  was,  he  was  told,  in  the 
country,  at  Madame  Roguin's.  The  perfumer  took 
a  cab  and  paid  to  be  taken  as  quickly  as  the  post 
to  Nogent-sur-Marne.  At  Nogent-sur-Marne  the 
janitor  told  the  perfumer  that  monsieur  and  madame 
had  set  out  for  Paris.  Birotteau  returned  all  pros- 
trated. When  he  told  his  wife  and  daughter  of 
his  journey,  he  was  dazed  at  seeing  Constance, 
ordinarily  perched  like  a  bird  of  ill-omen  on  the 
slightest  ruffle  of   trade,  giving  him  the  sweetest 


326  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

consolations,  and  assuring  him  that  everything 
would  go  well. 

Next  day,  Birotteau  found  himself  at  seven  o'clock 
in  Du  Tillet's  street,  at  day-break,  on  guard.  He 
entreated  Du  Tillet's  porter  to  put  him  in  relations 
with  Du  Tillet's  valet  de  chambre,  and  slipped  ten 
francs  to  the  porter.  Cesar  obtained  the  favor  of 
speaking  to  Du  Tillet's  valet  de  chambre,  and  asked 
him  to  let  him  see  Du  Tillet  as  soon  as  Du  Tillet 
would  be  visible,  and  he  slipped  two  gold  pieces 
into  the  hand  of  the  valet  de  chambre.  These 
little  sacrifices  and  these  great  humiliations,  com- 
mon to  courtiers  and  beggars,  enabled  him  to  attain 
his  object  At  half-past  eight,  just  as  his  old  clerk 
was  getting  rid  of  his  night-shirt;  and  throwing  off 
the  confused  ideas  of  waking  up,  was  yawning  and 
stretching  himself,  and  excusing  himself  to  his  old 
master,  Birotteau  found  himself  face  to  face  with 
the  tiger  famishing  for  revenge  which  he  wished  to 
wreak  on  his  only  friend. 

"Do,  do  it,"  said  Birotteau. 

"What  do  you  want,  my  good  Cesar?"  said  Du 
Tillet. 

Cesar  delivered,  not  without  frightful  palpita- 
tions. Baron  de  Nucingen's  answer  and  conditions, 
which  received  no  attention  from  Du  Tillet,  who 
listened  to  him  while  looking  for  his  bellows  and 
scolding  his  valet  de  chambre  for  the  awkwardness 
with  which  he  was  lighting  the  fire. 

The  valet  de  chambre  was  listening.  Cesar  did  not 
at    first    observe    him,    but   he   saw  him    at   last, 


IN  MISFORTUNE  327 

stopped  confused,  and  continued,  when  spurred  by 
Du  Tillet,  thus: 

"Go  on,  go  on.  I  am  listening  to  you!"  said  the 
distraught  banker. 

The  poor  man's  shirt  was  wet  His  perspiration 
turned  cold  when  Du  Tillet  directed  his  fixed  stare 
on  him,  let  him  see  his  silver-white  pupils,  striped 
with  some  golden  threads,  piercing  him  to  the  heart 
with  a  diabolical  stare. 

"My  dear  master,  the  Bank  has  refused  notes  of 
yours  passed  by  the  Claparon  house  to  Gigonnet, 
without  recourse,  and  is  that  my  fault?  What! 
you,  a  former  consular  judge,  are  you  making  such 
blunders?  I  am,  first  of  all,  a  banker,  I  will 
give  you  my  money,  but  I  could  not  expose  my  sig- 
nature to  receiving  a  refusal  from  the  Bank.  I  exist 
only  by  credit.  We  are  all  in  that  box.  Do  you 
want  money?" 

"Can  you  give  me  all  that  I  need?" 

"That  depends  on  the  amount  to  be  paid!  How 
much  do  you  want?" 

"Thirty  thousand  francs." 

"What  a  lot  of  chimney  pipe  is  falling  on  my 
head!"  said  Du  Tillet,  as  he  burst  out  laughing. 

On  hearing  this  laughter,  the  perfumer,  misled 
by  Du  Tillet's  exuberance,  would  see  in  it  the  laugh 
of  a  man  to  whom  the  sum  was  a  small  matter,  and 
he  breathed  more  easily.     Du  Tillet  rang  the  bell. 

"Tell  my  cashier  to  come  up." 

"He  has  not  arrived,  sir,"  the  valet  de  chambre 
replied. 


328  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

"Those  knaves  are  taking  liberties  with  me!  It 
is  half-past  eight  One  might  have  attended  to  a  mil- 
lion's worth  of  business  by  this  time." 

Five  minutes  later  Monsieur  Legras  came  up. 

"How  much  cash  have  you  on  hand?" 

"Twenty  thousand  francs  only.  The  gentleman 
has  given  orders  to  buy  thirty  thousand  francs' 
worth  of  bonds  for  cash,  payable  the  fifteenth." 

"True.     I  must  be  still  asleep." 

The  cashier  looked  squintingly  at  Birotteau  and 
then  left. 

"If  truth  were  banished  from  earth,  it  would  en- 
trust its  last  word  to  a  cashier,"  said  Du  Tillet. 

"Have  you  not  an  interest  in  the  Popinot  house, 
which  has  just  been  established?"  he  asked  after 
a  horrible  pause,  during  which  the  perspiration 
stood  out  in  big  drops  on  the  perfumer's  forehead. 

"Yes,"  Birotteau  said,  candidly.  "Do  you  think 
that  you  could  discount  his  signature  for  me  for  a 
considerable  sum?" 

"Bring  me  his  acceptances  for  fifty  thousand 
francs.  I  will  have  them  passed  at  a  reasonable 
figure  with  a  certain  Gobseck,  a  very  mild  fel- 
low when  he  has  much  money  to  place,  and  he 
has  it." 

Birotteau  returned  home  distressed,  not  noticing 
that  the  bankers  had  sent  him  from  one  to  another, 
like  a  shuttlecock;  but  Constance  had  already 
seen  that  any  credit  was  impossible.  If  so  far 
three  bankers  had  refused,  all  must  have  had  an 
understanding  about  a  man  as  much  in  evidence  as 


IN  MISFORTUNE  329 

was  the  deputy,   and  consequently  recourse   could 
not  be  had  to  the  Bank  of  France. 

"Try  to  renew,"  said  Constance,  "and  go  to 
Monsieur  Claparon,  your  co-partner,  and  finally  to 
all  those  to  whom  you  have  given  notes  for  the  fif- 
teenth, and  propose  renewals.  It  will  always  be 
time  to  return  to  the  discounters  with  the  Popinot 
paper." 

"To-morrow  is  the  thirteenth,"  said  Birotteau, 
quite  downcast. 

According  to  an  expression  used  in  his  prospec- 
tus, he  enjoyed  a  sanguine  temperament  that  con- 
sumes enormously  by  emotions  or  by  thought,  and 
that  positively  needs  sleep  to  repair  its  losses. 
Cesarine  led  her  father  into  the  salon  and  played 
for  him,  so  as  to  recreate  him,  Rousseau's  Dream,  a 
very  pretty  piece  by  Herold,  and  Constance  worked 
beside  him.  The  poor  man  allowed  himself  to  drop 
his  head  on  an  ottoman,  and,  every  time  that  he 
raised  his  eyes  to  look  at  his  wife,  he  saw  her  with 
a  sweet  smile  on  her  lips;  thus  he  went  to  sleep. 

"Poor  man!"  said  Constance;  "for  what  tortures 
is  he  reserved!— Provided  that  he  survives  them  !" 

"Ah!  what  ails  you,  mamma?"  said  Cesarine,  as 
she  saw  her  mother  in  tears. 

"Dear  daughter,  I  see  a  failure  coming.  If  your 
father  is  obliged  to  stop  payment,  we  must  not  im- 
plore any  one's  pity.  My  child,  be  prepared  to 
become  a  mere  shop-girl.  If  I  see  you  taking  your 
part  courageously,  I  will  have  the  strength  to  begin 
life  over  again.     I  know  your  father;  he  will   not 


330  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

keep  a  penny,  I  will  give  up  my  rights,  they  will 
sell  all  that  we  possess.  You,  my  child,  take  your 
jewels  and  your  wardrobe  to  Uncle  Pillerault's 
to-morrow,  for  you  are  not  in  any  way  involved." 

Cesarine  was  seized  with  unbounded  dread  as  she 
heard  these  words  spoken  with  a  religious  sim- 
plicity. She  bethought  herself  of  going  to  see  An- 
selme,  but  delicacy  prevented  her. 

Next  day,  at  nine  o'clock,  Birotteau  found  him- 
self in  the  Rue  de  Provence,  a  prey  to  anxieties 
quite  other  than  those  through  which  he  had  passed. 
To  ask  a  credit  is  a  very  simple  matter  in  trade. 
Every  day,  in  starting  a  business,  it  is  necessary 
to  find  capital ;  but  to  ask  renewals  is,  in  commer- 
cial jurisprudence,  what  the  police  court  is  to  the 
assize  court,  a  first  step  towards  failure,  as  misde- 
meanor leads  to  crime.  The  secret  of  your  power- 
lessness  and  of  your  difficulty  is  in  other  hands 
than  your  own.  A  merchant  puts  himself  bound 
hand  and  foot  at  the  disposition  of  another  merchant, 
and  charity  is  not  a  virtue  practised  at  the  Bourse. 

The  perfumer,  who  of  old  carried  a  high  head  so 
confidently  when  he  went  abroad  in  Paris,  now, 
weakened  by  doubts,  hesitated  as  he  was  about  to 
enter  Banker  Claparon's;  he  began  to  understand 
that  with  bankers  the  heart  is  only  an  intestine. 
Claparon  seemed  to  him  so  brutal  in  his  gross  joy, 
and  he  had  detected  in  him  so  much  bad  form,  that 
he  trembled  on  approaching  him. 

"He  is  nearer  the  people;  he  will  perhaps  have 
more  feeling!" 


IN  MISFORTUNE  331 

Such  was  the  first  accusing  word  that  the  desper- 
ation of  his  position  dictated  to  him. 

Cesar  drew  out  his  last  dose  of  courage  from  the 
bottom  of  his  soul,  and  ascended  the  stairs  of  a 
mean  little  entresol  on  the  windows  of  which  he 
espied  green  curtains  faded  by  the  sun.  He  read 
on  the  door  the  word  OFFICE,  engraved  in  black  on 
an  oval  copper  plate;  he  knocked,  no  one  answered; 
he  entered.  Those  places,  more  than  unpretending, 
showed  misery,  avarice  or  neglect.  No  employe 
showed  himself  behind  the  brass  gratings,  placed 
high  enough  to  lean  upon  on  unpainted  white  wood- 
work that  served  as  a  guard-rail  for  tables  and 
desks  of  blackened  wood.  These  deserted  offices 
were  encumbered  with  ink-wells  in  which  the  ink 
was  becoming  mouldy,  pens  as  much  out  of  order 
as  street  urchins,  twisted  into  the  form  of  turnsols; 
with  cartons,  papers,  printed  forms,  no  doubt  use- 
less, littered  about  The  floor  of  the  passage  resem- 
bled that  of  a  boarding-house  parlor,  so  worn,  dirty 
and  damp  was  it.  The  second  room,  the  door  of 
which  was  adorned  with  the  word  CASHIER  was  in 
harmony  with  the  sinister  humors  of  the  outer 
office.  In  a  corner  was  found  a  large  oak-wood  cage 
latticed  with  copper  wire,  with  a  slide-hole,  and 
furnished  with  an  enormous  iron  box,  no  doubt 
abandoned  to  the  rompings  of  rats.  This  cage,  the 
door  of  which  was  open,  contained  also  a  fantastic 
desk,  and  a  mean  arm-chair,  full  of  holes,  green, 
with  a  cushioned  seat  from  which  the  hair  was 
escaping,    like   the   master's   wig,    in   a   thousand 


332  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

wanton  corkscrews.  This  room,  evidently  in 
former  times  the  salon  of  a  tenement  before  it  was 
converted  into  a  banking  office,  had  for  its  chief 
ornament  a  round  table  covered  with  green  cloth, 
around  which  were  old  chairs  with  black  morocco, 
and  nails  with  the  gilding  worn  off.  The  mantel- 
piece, rather  elegant,  presented  to  the  eye  none  of 
tlie  black  marks  that  fire  leaves;  its  shelf  was 
clean ;  its  glass,  soiled  by  flies,  had  a  mean  appear- 
ance, in  keeping  with  a  mahogany  clock  that  came 
from  the  sale  of  some  old  notary's  effects  and  that 
wearied  one's  eyes,  afflicted  already  by  the  sight  of 
two  candlesticks  without  candles  and  by  a  sticky 
dust.  The  wall-paper,  a  mouse  gray,  bordered  with 
rose,  bespoke  through  sooty  tints  the  unwholesome 
sojourn  of  some  smokers.  Nothing  so  closely  resem- 
bled the  mean  room  that  the  newspapers  call  the 
editor's  office.  Birotteau,  fearing  to  be  indiscreet, 
struck  three  mild  raps  on  the  door  opposite  to  that 
by  which  he  had  entered. 

"Come  in!"  exclaimed  Claparon,  whose  tone 
revealed  the  distance  that  his  voice  had  to  travel 
and  the  emptiness  of  that  room  in  which  the  per- 
fumer heard  a  good  fire  crackling,  but  in  which  the 
banker  was  not. 

This  room  served  him  indeed  as  a  private  office. 
Between  Keller's  luxuriant  audience  chamber  and 
the  singular  carelessness  of  this  pretended  great 
man  of  business  there  was  all  the  difference  that 
exists  between  Versailles  and  the  wigwam  of  a 
Huron  chief.     The  perfumer  had  seen  the  grandeur 


IN  MISFORTUNE  333 

of  the  Bank;  he  was  going  to  see  its  seamy 
side. 

Lying  on  a  sort  of  oblong  box  placed  behind  the 
office,  and  where  the  habits  of  a  careless  life  had 
spoiled,  soiled,  greased,  ruined,  confused,  torn,  and 
destroyed  a  whole  suit  of  furniture  that  was  almost 
elegant  when  it  was  new,  Claparon,  as  soon  as  he 
saw  Birotteau,  enveloped  himself  in  his  dirty  dress- 
ing gown,  put  down  his  pipe,  and  drew  the  bed- 
curtains  with  a  rapidity  that  laid  his  morals  open 
to  the  innocent  perfumer's  suspicions. 

"Be  seated,  sir,"  said  this  imitation  of  a 
banker. 

Claparon,  wigless,  and  with  his  head  enveloped 
in  a  silk  handkerchief  arranged  cross-wise,  seemed 
the  more  hideous  to  Birotteau  as  the  dressing  gown, 
being  open,  showed  him  a  sort  of  knitted  white 
woolen  undershirt  turned  brown  by  indefinitely 
prolonged  use. 

"Will  you  have  breakfast  with  me?"  Claparon 
said,  as  he  remembered  the  perfumer's  ball  and 
wanted  as  much  to  have  his  revenge  as  to  return 
the  compliment  by  this  invitation. 

In  fact,  a  round  table,  hurriedly  cleared  of  its 
papers,  betrayed  a  pretty  company  on  showing  a 
pate,  oysters,  white  wine,  and  common  kidneys 
stewed  in  champagne  curdled  in  their  own  juice.  In 
front  of  the  coal  fire  the  flame  was  gilding  an  ome- 
lette with  truffles.  Finally,  two  covers  and  their 
napkins,  stained  by  the  supper  of  the  night  before, 
threw  light  on  the  purest  innocence.     Like  a  man 


334  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

who  thought  himself  shrewd,  Claparon  insisted  in 
spite  of  Birotteau's  refusal. 

"I  was  to  have  had  some  one,  but  that  some  one 
is  not  showing  up,"  exclaimed  the  malignant  trav- 
eler, in  a  way  to  make  himself  heard  by  a  person 
who  might  have  been  buried  under  his  bed-clothes. 

"Sir,"  said  Birotteau,  "I  have  come  only  on  busi- 
ness, and  I  will  not  detain  you  long." 

"I  am  overwhelmed,"  Claparon  replied,  as  he 
pointed  to  a  cylindrical  secretary  and  tables  loaded 
with  papers.  "They  do  not  leave  me  a  single 
moment  to  myself.  I  receive  only  on  Saturdays, 
but  as  for  you,  dear  sir,  you  are  always  welcome! 
I  no  longer  find  time  either  to  make  love  or  to  stroll. 
I  am  losing  the  attraction  for  business,  which,  to 
regain  its  life,  needs  a  wisely  studied  rest.  No 
one  sees  me  any  more  on  the  boulevards,  occupied 
in  doing  nothing.  Bah!  business  makes  me  tired. 
I  don't  want  to  hear  any  more  talk  of  business.  I 
have  enough  money  and  will  never  have  enough 
happiness.  Faith,  I  want  to  travel,  to  see  Italy! 
Oh!  dear  Italy!  still  beautiful  amid  her  reverses, 
adorable  land  where  I  will  no  doubt  fmd  a  soft  and 
majestic  Italian  girl!  I  have  always  loved  the 
Italian  women!  Have  you  ever  had  an  Italian  girl 
for  your  own  ?  No.  Well,  come  with  me  to  Italy. 
We  will  see  Venice,  the  abode  of  the  doges,  and 
too  unfortunately  fallen  into  the  unappreciative 
hands  of  Austria,  where  the  arts  are  unknown! 
Bah!  let  us  leave  business  aside,  canals,  loans  and 
peaceful  governments.     I  am  a  good  fellow  when  I 


IN  MISFORTUNE  335 

have  my  craw  filled.       Thunder !  let  us  go  travel- 


ing." 


"Only  one  word,  sir,  and  I  will  leave  you,"  said 
Birotteau.  "You  have  passed  my  notes  over  to 
Monsieur  Bidault. " 

"You  mean  Gigonnet,  that  good  little  Gigonnet, 
a  man  who  is  slippery — as  a  knot." 

"Yes,"  replied  Cesar.  "I  would  like — and  in 
this  I  count  on  your  honor  and  delicacy — " 

Claparon  nodded. 

"1  would  like  to  be  able  to  renew — " 

"impossible,"  the  banker  curtly  replied.  "I  am 
not  alone  in  the  affair.  We  are  assembled  in  coun- 
sel, a  veritable  chamber,  where  we  are  as  thick 
as  slices  of  bacon  in  the  frying-pan.  Oh!  the 
devil !  we  are  deliberating.  The  Madeleine  land  is 
nothing;  we  are  operating  elsewhere.  Eh!  dear  sir, 
if  we  were  not  concerned  in  the  Champs-Elysees, 
around  the  Bourse  that  is  nearly  completed,  in  the 
Saint-Lazare  quarter  and  at  Tivoli,  we  would  not 
be,  as  big  Nucingen  says,  in  pi^ni:^.  What,  then, 
is  the  Madeleine?  A  little  brat  of  a  thing.  Prrr! 
We  do  not  play  low,  my  good  fellow,"  he  said,  as 
he  punched  Birotteau  in  the  stomach  and  shook  him. 
"Come,  let  us  see.  Have  breakfast;  we  will  chat," 
Claparon  continued,  so  as  to  soften  his  refusal. 

"With  pleasure,"  said  Birotteau.  "So  much  the 
worse  for  the  companion,"  thought  the  perfumer,  as 
he  contemplated  fuddling  Claparon  in  order  to  learn 
who  were  his  real  associates  in  an  affair  that  began 
to  seem  dark  to  him. 


336  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

"Good!  Victoire!"  the  banker  called  out 

To  this  call  responded  a  real  Leonarda  decked 
like  a  fishwoman. 

"Tell  my  clerks  that  I  am  not  in  to  anyone,  not 
even  to  Nucingen,  the  Kellers,  Gigonnet  and 
others!" 

"Only  Monsieur  Lempereur  has  come." 

"He  will  receive  the  fine  people,"  said  Claparon. 
"The  trash  will  not  pass  the  outer  room.  They 
will  be  told  that  1  am  excogitating  a  bold  stroke — 
some  champagne." 

To  fuddle  an  old  traveling  agent  is  an  impossi- 
bility. Cesar  took  the  sally  of  bad  form  as  a  symp- 
tom of  drunkenness,  and  he  tried  to  make  his 
associate  confess. 

"That  wretch  Roguin  is  always  with  you,"  said 
Birotteau.  "Should  you  not  write  to  him  asking  him 
to  aid  a  friend  whom  he  has  compromised,  a  man 
with  whom  he  dined  every  Sunday  and  whom  he 
has  known  for  twenty  years?" 

"Roguin? — adolt!  We  have  his  share.  Don't  be 
sad,  my  good  fellow;  everything  will  be  all  right. 
Pay  on  the  fifteenth,  and  the  first  time  we  shall 
see!  When  I  say  we  shall  see— (a  glass  of  wine!) 
— bonds  do  not  concern  me  in  any  way.  Ah ! 
you  would  not  pay.  I  would  not  make  believe 
to  you,  I  am  in  the  matter  only  for  a  commission 
on  the  purchase  and  a  dividend  in  the  sales;  by 
which  means  I  manage  the  owners — do  you  under- 
stand? You  have  solid  partners,  and  so  I  am  not 
afraid,  my  dear  sir.     To-day  business  is  divided! 


IN  MISFORTUNE  337 

A  matter  of  business  requires  the  combining  of 
so  many  capacities!  Will  you  join  us  in  business? 
Don't  waste  your  time  with  pots  of  pomade  and 
combs;  bad!  bad!  Shear  the  public,  enter  into 
speculation." 

"Speculation?"  said  the  perfumer,  "what  is  that 
trade?" 

"It  is  trade  in  the  abstract,"  replied  Claparon, 
"a  trade  that  will  remain  secret  for  half  a  score 
years  or  more,  if  you  are  to  believe  the  great  Nu- 
cingen,  the  Napoleon  of  finance,  and  by  which  a  man 
takes  in  the  totals  of  figures,  skims  off  the  revenues 
before  they  exist,  a  gigantic  conception,  a  method 
of  putting  hope  in  regularly  arranged  sections, — in 
fine,  a  new  cabal !  There  are  as  yet  only  ten  or 
twelve  strong  heads  of  us  initiated  into  the  cabal- 
istic secrets  of  these  magnificent  combinations." 

Cesar  opened  his  eyes  and  ears  as  he  tried  to 
understand  this  composite  phraseology. 

"Listen,"  said  Claparon,  after  a  pause.  "Such 
strokes  mean  men.  There  is  the  man  with  ideas 
who  hasn't  a  sou,  like  all  people  with  ideas. 
Such  folk  think  and  spend,  without  paying  atten- 
tion to  anything.  Picture  to  yourself  a  pig  wandering 
in  a  wood  in  which  truffles  grow !  He  is  followed  by 
a  jolly  fellow,  the  moneyed  man,  who  awaits  the 
grunting  that  follows  discovery.  When  the  man  of 
ideas  has  run  across  a  good  thing,  the  moneyed  man 
then  taps  him  on  the  shoulder  and  says  to  him: 
'What's that?  you  are  running  into  the  jaw  of  a  fur- 
nace, my  good  fellow;  you  are  not  holding  the  reins 
22 


338  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

stiff  enough ;  here's  a  thousand  francs  and  let  me 
bring  out  this  matter. '  Good !  the  banker  then  calls 
in  the  adventurers.  'My  friends,  to  work!  prospec- 
tuses !  death  to  humbug !'  They  take  hunting  horns 
and  cry  in  trumpet  tones:  'A  hundred  thousand 
francs  for  five  sous !'  or,  five  sous  for  a  hundred 
thousand  francs,  gold  mines,  coal  mines — in  fine,  all 
the  high  airs  of  trade.  One  buys  the  opinion  of 
men  of  science  or  art,  the  procession  moves,  the 
public  enters;  it  has  something  for  its  money,  the 
receipt  is  in  our  hands.  The  pig  is  housed  in  its 
pen  with  potatoes,  and  the  others  wallow  in  bank- 
notes. There  it  is,  my  dear  sir.  Go  into  business. 
What  would  you  be  ?  A  pig,  a  turkey-cock,  a  man  of 
straw  or  a  millionaire  ?  Reflect  on  that :  I  have  for- 
mulated for  you  the  theory  of  modern  loans.  Come 
and  see  me;  you  will  find  a  good  fellow  always 
jovial.  French  joviality,  grave  and  gay  at  the  same 
time,  does  not  injure  business.  On  the  contrary! 
Men  who  tipple  are  in  a  good  position  to  under- 
stand themselves!  Come!  another  glass  of  cham- 
pagne? It  is  well  matured,  come!  This  wine  was 
sent  by  an  Epernay  man  himself,  for  whom  I  made 
a  good  sale,  and  at  a  good  price — I  was  in  my  cups. — 
He  shows  his  gratitude  and  remembers  me  in  my 
prosperity.     That  doesn't  often  happen." 

Birotteau,  surprised  at  the  levity  and  thoughtless- 
ness of  this  man,  whom  everybody  credited  with 
astonishing  depth  and  capacity,  did  not  dare  to 
question  him  further.  In  the  bungling  state  of  ex- 
citement into  which  the  champagne  had  put  him,  he 


IN  MISFORTUNE  339 

yet  remembered  a  name  that  Du  Tillet  had  men- 
tioned, and  asked  who  was  or  where  lived  Mon- 
sieur Gobseck,  the  banker. 

"Have  you  come  to  that,  my  dear  sir?"  said 
Claparon.  "Gobseck  is  as  much  a  banker  as  the 
Paris  executioner  is  a  physician.  His  first  word  is 
the. fifty  per  cent;  he  is  of  the  Harpagon  school :  he 
holds  at  your  disposal  canaries  that  are  only 
finches,  stuffed  boas,  summer  furs,  winter  nan- 
keens. And  what  security  would  you  offer  him  ? 
To  get  him  to  take  your  paper  flat  you  would  have 
to  pledge  your  wife,  your  daughter,  your  umbrella, 
everything,  even  to  your  hat-box,  your  clogs — you 
indulge  in  the  jointed  clog, — shovel,  tongs,  and  the 
wood  you  have  in  your  cellar !— Gobseck!  Gobseck! 
pink  of  misfortune!  who  has  directed  you  to  this 
financial  guillotine.?" 

"Monsieur  Du  Tillet." 

"Ha!  the  rogue,  I  knew  it.  We  were  formerly 
friends.  If  we  have  quarreled  so  as  not  to  speak  to 
each  other,  believe  me  that  my  aversion  is  well 
founded :  he  let  me  read  the  very  depths  of  his 
muddy  soul,  and  he  put  me  very  much  ill  at  ease 
during  the  fine  ball  that  you  gave  us.  I  cannot  bear 
him  with  his  puppy  airs,  because  he  is  keeping  a 
notary's  wife!  I'll  have  marchionesses,  I  will, 
when  I  wish,  and  he  will  never  have  my  esteem, 
not  he!  Ah!  what  I  prize  is  a  princess,  one  who 
will  never  crowd  him  in  his  bed.  You  are  a  comical 
chap.  Tell  us,  then,  big  papa,  how  you  could  palm  off 
a  ball  on  us,  and  two  months  afterwards  ask  for 


340  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

renewals !  You  may  go  very  far.  Let  us  do  busi- 
ness together.  You  have  a  reputation,  it  will  be 
of  service  to  me.  Oh !  Du  Tillet  was  born  to  un- 
derstand Gobseck.  Du  Tillet  will  end  badly  in  the 
business.  If,  as  people  say,  he  is  this  old  Gob- 
seck's  bell-weiher,  he  cannot  go  very  far.  Gob- 
seck is  in  the  corner  of  his  web,  crouching  like  an 
old  spider  that  has  been  around  the  world.  Sooner 
or  later,  Zttt!  the  usurer  sniffs  his  man  as  I  do  this 
glass  of  wine.  So  much  the  better.  Du  Tillet 
played  a  trick  on  me — oh!  a  trick  that  deserves 
hanging." 

After  an  hour  and  a  half  spent  in  babbling  that  had 
no  meaning,  Birotteau  wanted  to  leave  when  he  saw 
the  former  commercial  traveler  ready  to  narrate  to 
him  the  adventure  of  a  representative  of  the  people  at 
Marseilles,  in  love  with  an  actress  who  was  playing 
the  part  of  the  pretty  Arslne !  and  who  was  hissed 
by  the  royalist  pit. 

"He  arose,"  said  Claparon,  "and  struck  an  atti- 
tude in  his  box :  Who  hissed — he !  If  it  is  a  woman, 
1  despise  her;  if  it  is  a  man,  we  will  see;  if  it  is 
neither  one  nor  the  other,  may  God's  curse  light  on 
it! — Do  you  know  how  the  adventure  ended?" 

"Adieu,  sir,"  said  Birotteau. 

"You  will  have  to  come  and  see  me,"  Claparon 
then  said  to  him.  "The  first  Cayron  driblet  has 
come  back  to  us  protested,  and  I  am  endorser,  and 
I  paid  it.  I  am  going  to  send  it  to  you,  for,  busi- 
ness before  everything  else." 

Birotteau  felt  himself  cut  as  deeply  to  the  heart 


IN  MISFORTUNE  341 

by  this  cold-blooded  and  grinning  favor  as  by  Kel- 
ler's hardness  and  Nucingen's  German  raillery. 
This  man's  familiarity  and  his  grotesque  confidences, 
kindled  by  the  champagne,  had  blasted  the  honest 
perfumer's  soul,  and  he  felt  as  if  he  were  leaving  a 
financial  place  of  ill-repute.  He  went  down  stairs, 
found  himself  in  the  street,  without  knowing 
whither  he  was  going.  He  continued  along  the 
boulevards,  reached  the  Rue  Saint-Denis,  bethought 
himself  of  Molineux,  and  directed  his  course  towards 
the  Cour  Batave.  He  climbed  up  the  dirty  and  tor- 
tuous stairway  which  but  lately  he  had  ascended 
glorious  and  proud.  He  recalled  Molineux's  mean 
harshness,  and  trembled  at  the  thought  of  having  to 
beseech  him.  As  at  the  time  of  the  perfumer's  first 
visit,  the  landlord  was  in  his  chimney  corner,  but 
digesting  his  breakfast;  Birotteau  formulated  his 
request  to  him. 

"Renew  a  note  for  twelve  hundred  francs?"  said 
Molineux,  in  a  tone  of  jeering  incredulity.  "You 
are  not  in  that  fix,  sir.  If  you  have  not  twelve 
hundred  francs  on  the  fifteenth  to  pay  my  note,  you 
will  then  send  me  back  my  receipt  for  unpaid  rent? 
Ah !  I  would  be  sorry  for  it.  I  am  not  in  the  least 
polite  in  the  matter  of  money;  my  rents  are  my 
revenues.  Without  that,  with  what  would  I  pay 
what  I  owe?  A  man  in  trade  will  not  disapprove 
of  this  salutary  principle.  Money  knows  nobody; 
it  has  no  ears,  money  hasn't;  it  has  no  heart, 
money  hasn't  The  winter  is  severe,  and  wood  has 
gone  up.       If  you  do  not  pay  on  the  fifteenth,  on 


342  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

the  sixteenth  a  little  notice,  at  noon.  Bah!  the 
good  man,  Mitral,  your  constable,  is  mine;  he  will 
send  you  his  notice  in  an  envelope,  with  all  the 
regards  due  to  your  high  position." 

"Sir,  I  never  received  a  summons  on  my  own 
account,"  said  Birotteau. 

"There  is  a  beginning  to  everything,"  said  Moli- 
neux. 

Dismayed  by  this  little  old  man's  blunt  ferocity, 
the  perfumer  was  downcast,  for  he  heard  the  knell 
of  his  insolvency  tinkling  in  his  ears.  Each  tink- 
ling recalled  the  memory  of  the  dicta  that  his  piti- 
less jurisprudence  had  suggested  to  him  regarding 
failures.  His  opinions  were  outlined  in  traits  of 
fire  on  the  soft  matter  of  his  brain. 

"By  the  way,"  said  Molineux,  "you  have  for- 
gotten to  put  on  your  notes :  value  received  in  rents, 
which  may  save  my  privilege." 

"My  position  forbids  me  to  do  anything  to  the 
detriment  of  my  creditors,"  said  the  perfumer,  stu- 
pefied at  the  sight  of  the  chasm  yawning  before 
him. 

"Good,  sir,  very  well;  I  thought  I  had  learned 
everything  in  the  matter  of  renting  with  those  gen- 
tlemen, the  tenants.  I  learn  from  you  never  to  take 
notes  in  payment.  Ah !  I  will  go  to  law,  for  your 
answer  tells  me  clearly  that  you  will  go  back  on 
your  signature.  This  kind  of  doings  interests  all 
the  landlords  in  Paris." 

Birotteau  left  disgusted  with  life.  It  is  of  the  na- 
ture of  those  tender  and  soft  souls  to  be  disheartened 


IN   MISFORTUNE  343 

at  a  first  refusal,  just  as  a  first  success  encour- 
ages them.  Cesar  no  longer  had  any  hope  but  in 
little  Popinot's  devotedness,  and  of  him  he  natu- 
rally thought  as  he  found  himself  at  the  Innocents' 
market. 

"The  poor  youth!  Who  would  have  told  me  that 
when,  six  weeks  ago,  at  the  Tuileries,  1  started 
him!" 


It  was  about  four  o'clock,  just  the  time  when  the 
magistrates  leave  the  Palace.  Perchance  the  com- 
mitting judge  had  come  to  see  his  nephew.  This 
judge,  one  of  the  clearest-headed  of  men  in  matters 
of  morals,  had  a  second  sight  that  enabled  him  to 
perceive  secret  intentions,  to  recognize  the  mean- 
ing of  the  most  indifferent  human  acts,  the  germs 
of  a  crime,  the  roots  of  a  delinquency,  and  he 
looked  at  Birotteau  without  Birotteau  knowing  it 
The  perfumer,  thwarted  by  finding  the  uncle  with 
the  nephew,  seemed  to  him  constrained,  concerned, 
thoughtful.  Little  Popinot,  always  full  of  business, 
with  his  pen  behind  his  ear,  was  as  ever  obse- 
quious in  the  presence  of  Cesarine's  father.  The 
common-place  phrases  spoken  by  Cesar  to  his  partner 
seemed  to  the  judge  to  be  but  the  screens  of  an  im- 
portant request.  Instead  of  leaving,  the  shrewd 
magistrate  remained  with  his  nephew  in  spite  of 
his  nephew,  for  he  had  calculated  that  the  perfumer 
would  try  to  get  rid  of  him  by  retiring  himself. 
When  Birotteau  left,  the  judge  went  also,  but  he 
remarked  Birotteau  strolling  in  the  part  of  the  Rue 
des  Cinq-Diamants  that  leads  to  the  Rue  Aubry-le- 
Boucher.  This  very  slight  circumstance  aroused 
suspicions  in  old  Popinot  regarding  Cesar's  inten- 
tions,  and   he   then  left  by  way  of  the  Rue   des 

(345) 


346  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

Lombards,  and,  when  he  had  seen  the  perfumer  go 
back  into  Anselme's,  he  promptly  returned  thither. 

"My  dear  Popinot, "  Cesar  had  said  to  his  part- 
ner, "1  come  to  ask  a  favor  of  you." 

"What  must  be  done  ?"  asked  Popinot,  with  gener- 
ous ardor. 

"Ah!  you  save  my  life!"  the  good  man  ex- 
claimed, happy  at  that  warmth  of  heart  which 
sparkled  amid  the  icebergs  through  which  he  had 
been  sailing  for  the  past  twenty-five  days — "I 
must  negotiate  for  fifty  thousand  francs  to  the  ac- 
count of  my  share  of  the  profits.  We  will  have  an 
understanding  as  to  the  payment." 

Popinot  looked  steadily  at  Cesar,  and  Cesar 
looked  down.     At  that  moment  the  judge  reappeared. 

"My  boy — Ah!  excuse  me.  Monsieur  Birotteau! 
My  boy,  I  forgot  to  tell  you — " 

And  with  the  imperious  gesture  of  a  magistrate, 
the  judge  beckoned  his  nephew  into  the  street,  and 
forced  him,  though  in  shirt  sleeves  and  bareheaded, 
to  listen  to  him  as  they  walked  towards  the  Rue  des 
Lombards. 

"Nephew,  your  old  employer  might  find  himself 
so  embarrassed  in  business  that  it  would  be  neces- 
sary for  him  to  stop  payment.  Before  getting  there, 
men  who  can  boast  of  forty  years  of  probity,  the 
most  virtuous  men,  with  the  desire  of  preserving 
their  honor,  imitate  the  wildest  gamblers;  they  are 
capable  of  anything:  they  sell  their  wives,  traffic 
in  their  daughters,  compromise  their  best  friends, 
pledge  what  does  not  belong  to  them;  they  go  into 


IN  MISFORTUNE  347 

gambling,  become  comedians,  liars;  they  know 
how  to  weep— in  fine,  I  have  seen  the  most  extra- 
ordinary things.  You,  yourself,  have  been  a  wit- 
ness to  Roguin's  ingenuousness,  to  whom  one  would 
have  given  the  Holy  Sacrament  without  requiring  his 
confession.  I  do  not  apply  these  rigid  conclusions 
to  Monsieur  Birotteau;  I  think  him  honest.  But  if 
he  asked  you  to  do  anything  that  would  be  contrary 
to  the  laws  of  trade,  such  as  signing  accommodation 
notes  and  dragging  you  into  a  system  of  kite-flying, 
which,  in  my  opinion,  is  a  beginning  of  knavery,  for 
it  is  false  paper-money,  promise  me  that  you  will 
sign  nothing  without  consulting  me.  Think  that, 
.if  you  love  his  daughter,  you  must  not,  in  the  very 
interest  of  your  passion,  destroy  your  future.  If 
Monsieur  Birotteau  is  going  to  fall,  what  is  the  use 
of  both  of  you  falling.?  Is  it  not  to  deprive  both  of 
you  of  the  chances  of  your  business  establishment, 
which  will  be  his  refuge?" 

"Thanks,  uncle;  a  word  to  the  wise  is  sufifi- 
cient,"  said  Popinot,  to  whom  the  desperate  appeal 
of  his  employer  was  then  explained. 

The  dealer  in  refined  and  other  oils  returned  into 
his  dark  shop,  his  brow  marked  with  care.  Birot- 
teau noticed  this  change. 

"Do  me  the  honor  of  coming  up  to  my  room.  We 
will  be  in  a  better  position  there  than  here.  The 
clerks,  though  very  busy,  might  hear  us." 

Birotteau  followed  Popinot,  a  prey  to  the  anx- 
ieties of  the  convict  between  the  quashing  of  his 
sentence  or  the  rejection  of  his  appeal. 


348  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

"My  dear  benefactor,"  said  Anselme,  "you  cer- 
tainly iiave  no  doubt  of  my  devotedness;  it  is  blind. 
Allow  me  only  to  ask  of  you  whether  this  sum 
will  wholly  save  you,  or  if  it  is  only  a  delay  of  some 
catastrophe,  and  then  what  would  be  the  use  of 
dragging  me  into  it?  You  want  notes  for  ninety 
days.  Well,  in  three  months  it  will  certainly  be 
impossible  for  me  to  take  them  up." 

Birotteau,  pale  and  solemn,  arose  and  looked  at 
Popinot 

Popinot,  in  terror,  exclaimed: 

"I  will  give  them,  if  you  wish." 

"Ingrate!"  exclaimed  the  perfumer,  who  used 
what  was  left  of  his  strength  to  cast  this  word  in 
Anselme's  face  as  a  mark  of  infamy. 

Birotteau  walked  towards  the  door  and  went  out. 
Popinot,  having  recovered  from  the  feeling  that  this 
terrible  word  had  produced  on  him,  rushed  down  the 
stairs,  ran  into  the  street,  but  he  did  not  find  the 
perfumer.  Cesarine's  lover  never  heard  that  for- 
midable sentence;  he  had  constantly  before  his  eyes 
poor  Cesar's  broken  appearance:  he  lived  at  last, 
like  Hamlet,  with  a  dread  spectre  by  his  side. 

Birotteau  walked  along  the  streets  of  that  quarter 
like  a  man  who  was  intoxicated.  Yet  he  at  last 
found  himself  on  the  quay,  followed  it  and  went  as 
far  as  Sevres,  where  he  spent  the  night  in  an  inn, 
crazy  from  grief;  and  his  wife,  distracted,  dared  not 
have  search  made  for  him  anywhere.  In  such  a  case 
an  alarm  imprudently  given  is  fatal.  The  wise 
Constance  sacrificed  her  anxiety  to  the  reputation 


IN  MISFORTUNE  349 

of  trade;  she  waited  during  the  whole  night,  min- 
gling her  prayers  with  tears.  Was  Cesar  dead? 
Had  he  gone  to  make  some  round  outside  of  Paris, 
on  the  trace  of  a  last  hope?  Next  morning  she  be- 
haved as  if  she  knew  the  reasons  for  this  absence; 
but  she  called  in  her  uncle  and  entreated  him  to  go 
to  the  Morgue,  when  she  saw  that,  at  five  o'clock, 
Birotteau  had  not  returned.  During  this  time  the 
courageous  creature  was  at  her  desk,  and  her  daugh- 
ter was  embroidering  by  her  side.  Both  of  them, 
with  calm  countenance,  neither  sad  nor  smiling, 
waited  on  the  public.  When  Pillerault  returned,  he 
returned  in  Cesar's  company.  On  his  way  back 
from  the  Bourse  he  had  met  him  in  the  Palais-Royal, 
hesitating  as  to  whether  he  should  go  up  to  gamble. 
That  day  was  the  fourteenth.  At  dinner  Cesar 
could  not  eat.  His  stomach,  too  violently  con- 
tracted, refused  nourishment.  The  afternoon  was 
more  horrible.  The  merchant  experienced  for  the 
hundredth  time  one  of  those  frightful  alternations 
of  hope  and  despair  which,  making  the  soul  go  up 
the  whole  gamut  of  gladsome  sensations,  then  pre- 
cipitates it  into  the  lowest  feelings  of  grief,  plays 
with  these  weak  natures.  Derville,  Birotteau's 
lawyer,  came  and  rushed  into  the  splendid  parlor 
where  Madame  Cesar  was  using  all  her  power  to 
keep  her  poor  husband,  who  wanted  to  go  to  bed  in 
the  sixth  story,  "so  as  not  to  see  the  monuments  of 
my  folly!"  he  said. 

"The  case  is  won,"  said  Derville. 

At  these  words  Cesar  stretched  out  his  contracted 


350  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

form,  but  his  joy  frightened  Uncle  Pillerault  and 
Derville.  The  women  left  in  terror  to  go  and  weep 
in  Cesarine's  room, 

"I  can  borrow,  then  ?"  exclaimed  the  perfumer. 

"That  would  be  imprudent,"  said  Derville. 
"They  have  appealed,  the  court  may  reverse  the 
verdict;  but  in  a  month  we  will  have  a  decision." 

"A  month!" 

Cesar  fell  into  a  stupor  from  which  no  one  tried 
to  arouse  him.  This  sort  of  arrested  catalepsy, 
during  which  the  body  lived  and  suffered,  while 
the  functions  of  the  intellect  were  suspended,  this 
respite  given  by  chance  was  regarded  as  a  blessing 
from  God  by  Constance,  Cesarine,  Pillerault  and 
Derville,  who  thought  aright.  Birotteau  could  thus 
endure  the  harrowing  emotions  of  the  night.  He 
was  in  an  arm-chair  near  the  fire-place ;  on  the  other 
side  was  his  wife,  who  watched  him  attentively, 
with  a  sweet  smile  on  her  lips,  one  of  those  smiles 
which  prove  that  women  are  nearer  than  men  to  the 
angelic  nature,  in  that  they  know  how  to  mingle  an 
infinite  tenderness  with  the  fullest  compassion,  a 
secret  that  belongs  only  to  angels  seen  in  certain 
dreams  providentially  distributed  at  long  intervals 
over  human  life.  Cesarine,  seated  on  a  small  stool, 
was  at  her  mother's  feet,  and  from  time  to  time 
lightly  brushed  with  her  hair  her  father's  hands,  at 
the  same  time  giving  him  a  caress  into  which  she 
tried  to  put  the  ideas  that,  in  such  crises,  the  voice 
makes  wearisome. 

Seated   in   his  arm-chair,   as  the  Chancellor  de 


IN  MISFORTUNE  351 

THopital  in  his  in  the  peristyle  of  the  Chamber  of 
Deputies,  Pillerault,  that  philosopher  ready  for 
everything,  showed  on  his  countenance  that  intel- 
ligence graven  on  the  brow  of  the  Egyptian 
sphinxes,  and  chatted  with  Derville  in  a  low  voice. 
Constance  had  entertained  the  idea  of  consulting 
the  lawyer,  whose  discretion  was  not  to  be  sus- 
pected. Having  her  accounts  arranged  in  her  head, 
she  explained  her  situation  in  Derville's  ear.  After 
a  conference  lasting  about  an  hour,  held  before  the 
stupefied  perfumer's  eyes,  the  lawyer  shook  his  head 
as  he  looked  at  Pillerault. 

"Madame,"  he  said,  with  the  terrible  coolness  of 
men  of  business,  "you  must  shut  up  shop.  Sup- 
posing that  by  any  artifice  you  succeeded  in  paying 
to-morrow,  you  would  have  to  clear  off  at  least  three 
hundred  thousand  francs  before  you  could  borrow 
on  all  your  land.  Against  liabilities  of  five  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  francs  you  have  very  handsome, 
very  productive,  assets,  but  not  realizable;  you  will 
succumb  at  a  given  time.  My  advice  is  that  it  is 
better  to  jump  out  of  the  window  than  to  let  yourself 
be  rolled  down  stairs." 

"That  is  my  advice  also,  my  child,"  said  Piller- 
ault. 

Derville  was  shown  out  by  Madame  Cesar  and 
Pillerault. 

"Poor  father,"  said  Cesarine,  who  arose  sweetly 
to  imprint  a  kiss  on  Cesar's  brow.  "Anselme, 
then,  has  been  able  to  do  nothing?"  she  asked  when 
her  uncle  and  her  mother  returned. 


352  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

"Ingrate!"  exclaimed  Cesar,  struck  by  this  name 
in  the  only  living  part  of  his  memory,  like  a  key  of 
a  piano  when  the  hammer  is  about  to  strike  its 
string. 

From  the  moment  when  this  word  was  hurled  at 
him  like  an  anathema,  little  Popinot  had  not  a 
moment's  sleep  nor  an  instant's  peace.  The  unhappy 
youth  spoke  ill  of  his  uncle,  and  had  gone  to  find 
him.  To  make  that  old  judiciary  experience  capit- 
ulate, he  used  the  eloquence  of  love,  hoping  to  win 
over  the  man  on  whom  human  words  fell  like  water 
on  oil-cloth,  a  judge! 

"Commercially  speaking,"  hesaidto  him,  "usage 
allows  the  managing  partner  to  turn  over  a  certain 
sum  to  the  ?ilent  partner  in  anticipation  of  the 
profits,  and  our  firm  ought  to  realize  it.  A  thorough 
examination  being  made  of  my  affairs,  I  feel  the 
reins  strong  enough  in  my  hands  to  pay  forty  thous- 
and francs  in  three  months!  Monsieur  Cesar's 
honesty  encourages  the  belief  that  these  forty  thous- 
and francs  are  going  to  be  used  to  take  up  his  notes. 
Thus  the  creditors,  if  bankruptcy  comes,  will 
have  no  reproach  to  make  against  us!  Moreover, 
uncle,  1  prefer  to  lose  forty  thousand  francs  than 
to  lose  Cesarine.  At  this  moment,  as  I  am  speaking, 
she  has,  no  doubt,  been  informed  of  my  refusal,  and 
is  going  to  think  less  of  me.  I  have  promised  to 
shed  my  blood  for  my  benefactor!  I  am  in  the  case 
of  a  young  sailor  who  should  sink  as  he  holds  his 
captain's  hand,  of  a  soldier  who  should  perish  along 
with  his  general." 


IN  MISFORTUNE  353 

*'Good-hearted,  but  a  bad  business  man,  you  will 
not  lose  my  esteem,"  said  the  judge,  as  he  clasped 
his  nephew's  hand.  "I  have  thought  a  great  deal  of 
this,"  he  continued.  "I  know  that  you  are  madly 
in  love  with  Cesarine.  I  believe  that  you  can  com- 
ply both  with  the  laws  of  the  heart  and  the  laws  of 
trade." 

"Ah!  uncle,  if  you  have  found  the  means,  you 
save  my  honor." 

"Advance  to  Birotteau  fifty  thousand  francs  by 
making  a  deed  of  redemption  relative  to  your  inter- 
ests in  your  oil,  which  has  become,  as  it  were,  a  prop- 
erty.    I  will  draw  up  the  deed  for  you." 

Anselme  embraced  his  uncle,  returned  to  his 
house,  made  out  notes  for  fifty  thousand  francs,  and 
ran  from  the  Rue  des  Cinq-Diamants  to  the  Place 
Vendome,  so  that  at  the  moment  when  Cesarine, 
her  mother  and  their  Uncle  Pillerault  were  looking 
at  the  perfumer,  surprised  at  the  sepulchral  tone 
in  which  he  had  uttered  that  word  "Ingrate!"  in 
answer  to  his  daughter's  question,  the  parlor  door 
opened  and  Popinot  appeared. 

"My  dear  and  well-beloved  master,"  he  said,  as 
he  wiped  his  brow,  wet  with  perspiration,  "here's 
what  you  have  asked  of  me." 

He  was  handing  him  the  notes. 

"Yes,  I  have  thoroughly  studied  my  position. 
Have  no  fear,  I  will  pay;  save,  save  your  honor!" 

"I  was  quite  sure  of  him,"  Cesarine  exclaimed, 
as  she  seized  Popinot's  hand  and  pressed  it  with 
convulsive  strength. 
23 


354  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

Madame  Cesar  embraced  Popinot.  The  per- 
fumer posed  as  a  just  man  listening  to  the  trumpet 
of  the  last  judgment.  He  arose  as  if  he  were  coming 
out  of  a  tomb!  Then  he  reached  out  his  hand 
in  a  frenzied  movement  to  take  hold  of  the  fifty 
stamped  papers. 

*'One  moment !"  said  the  terrible  Uncle  Pillerault, 
as  he  snatched  the  notes  from  Popinot;  "one 
moment!" 

The  four  personages  who  made  up  that  family, 
Cesar  and  his  wife,  Cesarine  and  Popinot,  stunned 
by  their  uncle's  action  and  by  his  tone,  looked  at 
him  in  amazement  as  he  tore  the  notes  and  threw 
them  into  the  fire,  which  consumed  them  without 
anyone  stopping  them  on  the  way. 

"Uncle!" 

"Uncle!" 

"Uncle!" 

"Sir!" 

It  was  four  voices,  four  hearts  in  unison,  a  fright- 
ful unanimity.  Uncle  Pillerault  took  little  Popinot 
by  the  neck,  pressed  him  to  his  heart  and  kissed 
him  on  the  forehead. 

"You  are  worthy  of  the  adoration  of  all  those  who 
have  a  heart,"  he  said  to  him.  "If  you  loved  my 
daughter,  and  were  she  to  have  a  million,  and  were 
you  nothing  to  me  but  that — he  pointed  to  the  black 
ashes  of  the  notes — if  she  loved  you,  you  would  be 
married  in  a  fortnight.  Your  employer,"  he  said, 
referring  to  Cesar,  "is  a  fool.  Nephew,  "the  grave 
Pillerault  continued,  addressing  the  perfumer,  "no 


IN  MISFORTUNE  355 

more  illusions!  One  ought  to  do  business  with 
money,  and  not  with  sentiments.  That  is  sublime, 
but  useless.  I  have  spent  two  hours  at  the  Bourse. 
You  have  not  two  farthings'  worth  of  credit;  every- 
body was  speaking  of  your  disaster,  of  renewals 
refused,  of  your  efforts  with  several  bankers,  of 
their  refusal,  of  your  follies,  six  flights  of  stairs 
ascended  to  go  to  fmd  a  landlord  as  prattling  as  a 
magpie,  in  order  to  renew  for  twelve  hundred 
francs,  your  ball  given  to  conceal  your  stringency. — 
Some  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  you  had  nothing  at 
Roguin's.  According  to  your  enemies,  Roguin  is  a 
pretext.  One  of  my  friends,  instructed  to  fmd  out 
everything,  has  come  to  confirm  my  suspicions. 
Everyone  has  a  presentiment  of  the  issuing  of  the 
Popinot  notes;  you  set  him  up  purposely  in  order  to 
make  him  a  medium  for  notes.  In  fine,  all  the  cal- 
umnies and  slanders  that  are  drawn  upon  himself 
by  a  man  who  wants  to  ascend  one  step  higher  on 
the  social  ladder  are  circulating  at  this  moment  in 
the  world  of  trade.  You  might  peddle  in  vain  for  a 
week  Popinot's  fifty  notes  at  all  the  offices;  you 
would  meet  with  humiliating  refusals,  and  no  one 
would  have  them :  no  one  knows  the  number  of  them 
that  you  have  issued,  and  people  are  waiting  to  see 
you  sacrificing  this  poor  youth  in  order  to  save 
yourself.  You  would  have  destroyed  by  certain 
loss  the  credit  of  the  Popinot  house.  Do  you  know 
what  the  boldest  of  discounters  would  give  you 
for  these  fifty  thousand  francs }  Twenty  thous- 
and.     Twenty   thousand,  do  you  understand!     In 


356  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

trade  there  are  moments  when  it  is  necessary  to  be 
able  to  keep  yourself  before  the  world  for  three  days 
without  eating,  as  if  one  had  indigestion,  and,  on  the 
fourth,  one  is  admitted  to  the  larder  of  credit.  You 
cannot  live  these  three  days;  everything  is  in  that. 
My  poor  nephew,  have  courage ;  you  must  stop  pay- 
ment. Look  at  Popinot,  look  at  me.  We  are  going, 
as  soon  as  your  clerks  go  to  bed,  to  work  together 
in  order  to  spare  you  this  anguish." 

"Uncle! — "  said  the  perfumer,  as  he  clasped  his 
hands. 

"Cesar,  do  you  want,  then,  to  reach  a  shameful 
settlement  in  which  there  will  be  no  assets.?  Your 
interest  in  the  Popinot  house  saves  your  honor." 

Cesar,  having  his  mind  cleared  by  this  fatal  and 
last  ray  of  light,  finally  saw  the  frightful  truth  in  all 
its  bearing.  He  fell  back  in  his  chair,  then  on  his 
knees.  His  mind  wandered,  he  became  a  child  again. 
His  wife  thought  he  was  dying;  she  knelt  down  to 
raise  him  up.  But  she  joined  with  him  when  she 
saw  him  clasping  his  hands,  raising  his  eyes  and 
reciting,  with  resigned  compunction,  in  the  presence 
of  his  uncle  and  Popinot,  the  sublime  prayer  of 
Catholics: 

"Our  Father,  who  art  in  Heaven,  hallowed  be 
Thy  name.  Thy  kingdom  come.  Thy  will  be  done 
on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven:  GIVE  US  THIS  DAY  OUR 
DAILY  BREAD,  and  forgive  us  our  trespasses  as  we 
forgive  those  that  trespass  against  us;  and  lead  us 
not  into  temptation,  but  deliver  us  from  evil. 
Amen." 


IN  MISFORTUNE  357 

Tears  came  to  the  stoic  Pillerault's  eyes;  Cesa- 
rine,  overwhelmed,  and  in  tears,  had  her  head  bent 
on  Popinot's  shoulder,  pale  and  fixed  as  a  statue. 

"Let  us  go  down,"  said  the  former  merchant  to 
the  young  man,  as  he  took  hold  of  his  arm. 

At  half-past  eleven  o'clock,  they  left  Cesar  to  the 
care  of  his  wife  and  daughter.  At  that  moment 
Celestin,  the  chief  clerk,  who  had  managed  the 
house  during  this  secret  storm,  went  up  to  the  apart- 
ments and  was  entering  the  salon.  On  hearing 
his  step,  Cesarine  ran  to  open  the  door  for  him,  so 
that  he  would  not  see  the  master's  sad  plight. 

"Among  the  letters  that  came  this  evening,"  he 
said,  "there  was  one  from  Tours,  which  was  imper- 
fectly addressed,  thus  causing  delay.  I  imagine  that 
it  is  from  the  master's  brother,  and  have  not 
opened  it" 

"Father,"  said  Cesarine,  "a  letter  from  my  uncle 
in  Tours!" 

"Ah!  I  am  saved,"  Cesar  exclaimed.  "Brother! 
brother!"  he  said,  as  he  kissed  the  letter. 

FRANCOIS  BIROTTEAU'S  REPLY  TO  CESAR. 

"  TOURS,  17th  inst. 

"  MY  DEARLY  BELOVED  BROTHER, 

"  Your  letter  has  been  a  most  severe  affliction  to  me  ;  and 
so,  after  having  read  it,  I  went  to  offer  up  to  God  the  holy 
sacrifice  of  the  Mass  for  your  benefit,  interceding  with  Him, 
by  the  blood  that  His  Son,  our  Divine  Redeemer,  shed  for  us, 
to  cast  on  your  sorrows  a  look  of  mercy.  At  the  moment 
when  I  pronounced  my  prayer  Pro  meo  fratre  Ccesare,  my  eyes 


358  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

were  filled  with  tears  as  I  thought  of  you,  from  whom,  unfor- 
tunately, I  am  separated  at  a  time  when  you  must  need  the 
aid  of  fraternal  friendship.  But  1  thought  that  the  worthy 
and  venerable  Monsieur  Pillerault  would  no  doubt  take  my 
place.  My  dear  Cesar,  do  not  forget,  amid  your  sorrows, 
that  this  life  is  a  transitory  life  and  full  of  trials ;  that  one 
day  we  will  be  rewarded  for  having  suffered  for  the  Holy 
Name  of  God,  for  His  Holy  Church,  for  having  observed  the 
maxims  of  the  Gospel  and  practised  virtue;  otherwise,  the 
things  of  this  world  would  have  no  meaning.  I  repeat  these 
maxims  for  you,  knowing  how  pious  and  good  you  are, 
because  it  may  happen  to  persons  who,  like  you,  are  thrown 
amid  the  storms  of  the  world  and  cast  on  the  perilous  sea  of 
human  interests,  to  allow  themselves  to  blaspheme  amid  ad- 
versities, carried  away  as  they  are  by  grief.  Speak  ill  neither 
of  the  men  who  will  injure  you,  nor  of  God,  who,  at  His 
pleasure,  mingles  bitterness  with  your  life.  Have  no  regard 
for  earth ;  on  the  contrary,  ever  raise  your  eyes  towards 
Heaven:  thence  come  consolations  for  the  weak;  there  are  the 
riches  of  the  poor,  there  are  the  terrors  of  the  rich — 

"But,  Birotteau, "  said  his  wife  to  him,  "pass 
that,  and  see  if  he  is  sending  us  something." 

"We  will  re-read  it  often,"  replied  the  merchant, 
as  he  wiped  away  his  tears  and  opened  out  the  letter, 
from  which  fell  an  order  on  the  Royal  Treasury. 
"1  was  quite  sure  of  him,  poor  brother,"  said  Birot- 
teau, as  he  took  up  the  order. 

" — 1  went  to  Madame  de  Listomere's,"  he  continued,  read- 
ing in  a  voice  broken  by  his  sobs,  "and,  without  telling  her 
the  reason  for  my  request,  I  entreated  her  to  lend  me  all  that 
she  could  spare  in  my  favor,  so  as  to  add  to  my  own  savings. 
Her  generosity  has  enabled  me  to  make  up  a  sum  of  a  thou- 
sand francs;  1  send  it  to  you  in  an  order  on  the  Treasury  from 
the  receiver-general  at  Tours. 


IN  MISFORTUNE  359 

"What  a  fine  advance!"  said  Constance,  as  she 
looked  at  Cesarine. 

"  By  cutting  off  some  superfluities  in  my  living,  I  will  be 
able,  in  three  years,  to  pay  back  Madame  de  Listom^re  the 
four  hundred  francs  that  she  has  loaned  me,  so  do  not  be 
uneasy  about  it,  my  dear  Cdsar.  I  send  you  all  that  1  have 
in  the  world,  wishing  that  this  sum  may  help  to  a  happy 
ending  of  your  commercial  embarrassments,  which,  no  doubt, 
will  be  only  temporary.  I  know  your  delicacy,  and  wish  to 
anticipate  your  objections.  Do  not  think  of  giving  me  any 
interest  for  this  sum,  or  of  paying  it  back  to  me  in  a  time  of 
prosperity,  which  will  not  be  long  in  coming  to  you,  if  God 
deign  to  hear  the  prayers  that  I  will  address  to  Him  every 
day.  According  to  the  last  letter  I  received  from  you,  two 
years  ago,  I  thought  you  rich,  and  believed  I  could  dispose  of 
my  savings  in  favor  of  the  poor ;  but  now  all  that  I  have 
belongs  to  you.  When  you  will  have  got  over  this  passing 
difficulty  in  your  sailing,  still  keep  this  sum  for  my  niece, 
Cesarine,  so  that,  at  the  time  of  her  settlement,  she  may  use 
it  for  some  trifle  that  will  recall  to  her  an  old  uncle  whose 
hands  will  be  ever  raised  to  heaven  to  ask  God  to  shed  His 
blessings  on  her  and  on  all  those  who  will  be  dear  to  her.  In 
fine,  my  dear  Ce'sar,  think  that  I  am  a  poor  priest  who  goes 
about  by  God's  grace  as  the  larks  in  the  fields,  walking  in 
His  path,  without  making  any  fuss,  trying  to  obey  the  com- 
mands of  our  Divine  Saviour,  and  who,  consequently,  needs 
but  little.  So  do  not  have  the  least  scruple  in  the  difficult 
position  in  which  you  find  yourself,  and  think  of  me  as  of 
some  one  who  loves  you  tenderly.  Our  excellent  Abbe 
Chapeloud,  to  whom  I  have  said  nothing  of  your  situation, 
and  who  knows  that  I  am  writing  to  you,  has  asked  me  to 
convey  to  you  his  kindest  regards  for  every  member  of  your 
family,  and  wishes  you  continued  prosperity.  Adieu,  dear 
and  well-beloved  brother.  I  pray  that,  in  the  circumstances 
in  which  you  are  placed,  God  will  do  you  the  favor  of  keeping 
you  in  good  health,  and  not  only  you,  but  your  wife  and 


360  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

daughter  -,   I  wish  all  of  you  patience  and  courage  in  your 
adversities. 

"FRANCOIS  BIROTTEAU, 
"  Priest,   Vicar  of  the  Cathedral  and  Parish  Church  of 
Saint-Gatien  at  Tours." 

"A  thousand  francs,"  said  Madame  Birotteau, 
furious. 

"Hold  on  to  them,"  Cesar  said,  gravely;  "that's 
all  he  has.  They  belong  to  our  daughter,  and  may 
keep  us  alive  without  our  asking  anything  of  our 
creditors." 

"They  will  think  that  we  have  set  large  sums 
aside." 

"I'll  show  tliem  the  letter." 

"They'll  say  it's  a  trick." 

"My  God!  my  God!"  exclaimed  Birotteau,  terri- 
fied, "I  thought  that  of  poor  people  who,  no  doubt, 
were  in  the  position  that  I  am  in  now." 

Too  ill  at  ease  on  account  of  the  condition  in 
which  Cesar  found  himself,  mother  and  daughter 
worked  with  the  needle  near  him  in  deep  silence. 
At  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Popinot  gently 
opened  the  door  of  the  salon  and  made  a  sign  to 
Madame  Cesar  to  come  down.  On  seeing  his  niece, 
the  uncle  removed  his  spectacles. 

"My  child,  there  is  hope,"  he  said  to  her,  "all  is 
not  lost;  but  your  husband  would  not  endure  the 
alternatives  of  the  negotiations  to  be  made  and  that 
Anselme  and  I  are  going  to  try.  Do  not  leave  your 
shop  to-morrow,  and  take  all  the  addresses  on  the 
notes;    we  have  until  four   o'clock.     Here    is  my 


IN  MISFORTUNE  361 

idea.  Neither  Monsieur  Ragon  nor  I  am  to  be  feared. 
Suppose,  now,  that  your  hundred  thousand  francs 
deposited  with  Roguin  were  remitted  to  the  pur- 
cliasers;  you  would  no  more  have  them  than  you 
have  them  now.  You  are  in  the  presence  of  a  hun- 
dred and  forty  thousand  francs  signed  over  to 
Claparon  that  you  must  by  all  means  pay  in  any 
case;  so  it  is  not  Roguin's  bankruptcy  that  ruins 
you.  I  see,  available  to  meet  your  obligations,  forty 
thousand  francs  to  borrow  sooner  or  later  on  your  fac- 
tories and  sixty  thousand  francs  of  Popinot's  notes. 
One  may  struggle,  then;  for,  afterwards,  you  can 
borrow  on  the  Madeleine  land.  If  your  chief  cred- 
itor consents  to  aid  you,  I  will  have  no  regard  for 
my  fortune;  I  will  sell  my  bonds;  I  will  have  no 
money.  Popinot  will  be  between  life  and  death.  As 
far  as  you  are  concerned,  you  will  be  at  the  mercy 
of  the  slightest  accident  in  trade.  But  the  oil  will 
no  doubt  bring  large  profits.  Popinot  and  I  have 
just  had  a  consultation;  we  will  support  you  in  this 
struggle.  Ah!  with  the  greatest  pleasure  will  I  eat 
dry  bread  if  success  dawns  on  the  horizon.  But 
everything  depends  on  Gigonnet  and  the  Claparon 
partners.  Popinot  and  I  are  going  to  Gigonnet's 
between  seven  and  eight  o'clock,  and  we  will  know 
what  course  to  follow  regarding  their  intentions." 
Constance,  quite  distracted,  threw  herself  into 
her  uncle's  arms,  with  no  other  voice  than  tears 
and  sobs.  Neither  Popinot  nor  Pillerault  could  have 
known  that  Bidault,  called  Gigonnet,  and  Claparon 
were  but  Du  Tillet's  doubles,  and  that  Du   Tillet 


362  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

wanted  to  read  in  the  Peiites-Affiches  this  terrible 
article: 

"Judgment  of  the  Tribunal  of  Commerce  which 
declares  the  Sieur  Cesar  Birotteau,  dealer  in  per- 
fumes, residing  in  Paris,  in  the  Rue  Saint-Honore, 
No.  397,  in  a  state  of  bankruptcy,  provisionally 
fixes  the  opening  of  it  for  January  16,  1819,  Com- 
missary Judge,  Monsieur  Gobenheim-Keller.  Agent, 
Monsieur  Molineux." 

Anselme  and  Pillerault  studied  until  daylight  over 
Cesar's  affairs.  At  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
these  two  heroic  friends,  the  one  an  old  soldier,  the 
other  a  sub-lieutenant  of  yesterday,  who  was  never 
to  know  but  by  power  of  attorney  the  terrible 
anguish  of  those  who  have  ascended  Bidault's,  called 
Gigonnet,  stairs,  went  on  their  way,  without  ex- 
changing a  word,  towards  the  Rue  Grenetat.  They 
were  suffering.  Several  times  did  Pillerault  pass 
his  hand  over  his  forehead. 

The  Rue  Grenetat  is  a  street  in  which  all  the 
houses,  invaded  by  a  multitude  of  trades,  present  a 
repulsive  appearance.  The  buildings  there  have  a 
hideous  character.  The  ignoble  filthiness  of  fac- 
tories dominates  there.  Old  Gigonnet  lived  on  the 
fourth  floor  of  a  house  all  the  windows  of  which 
opened  vertically  and  had  dirty  little  square  panes. 

The  stairway  extended  out  to  the  very  street. 
The  portress  was  lodged  in  the  entresol,  in  a  coop 
that    derived    its    light    only  from   the   stairway. 


IN  MISFORTUNE  363 

With  the  exception  of  Gigonnet,  all  the  tenants  fol- 
lowed a  trade.  Workingmen  were  coming  in  and 
going  out  continually:  the  steps  were,  accordingly, 
covered  with  a  layer  of  hard  or  soft  mud,  according 
to  the  weather,  and  on  them  filth  sojourned.  On 
this  fetid  stairway,  each  landing  presented  to  the 
eye  the  name  of  the  artisan  written  in  gold  on 
sheet-iron,  painted  red  and  varnished,  with  samples 
of  his  masterpieces.  Most  of  the  time  the  open 
doors  allowed  one  to  see  the  strange  combination  of 
housekeeping  and  manufacturing;  there  escaped 
therefrom  indescribable  cries  and  grunts,  songs, 
whistlings  recalling  the  hour  of  four  with  the  ani- 
mals in  the  Jardin  de  Plantes.  On  the  second  floor 
were  made,  in  an  infected  little  tenement,  the  most 
beautiful  bands  of  the  Paris  Article.  On  the  third 
were  made,  amid  the  dirtiest  of  filth,  the  most  ele- 
gant bindings  that  deck  the  stalls  on  New  Year's 
Day.  Gigonnet  died  worth  eighteen  hundred  thous- 
and francs  on  the  fourth  floor  of  this  house;  for  no 
consideration  could  have  made  him  leave  it,  in  spite 
of  the  offer  of  Madame  Saillard,  his  niece,  to  provide 
apartments  for  him  in  a  hotel  in  the  Place  Royale. 

"Courage!"  said  Pillerault,  as  he  pulled  the 
hind's-foot  that  hung  by  a  cord  at  Gigonnet's  gray 
and  clean  door. 

Gigonnet  came  to  open  his  door  himself.  The 
two  sponsors  for  the  perfumer,  struggling  in  the 
field  of  insolvencies,  passed  through  an  antecham- 
ber that  was  neat  and  cold,  without  curtains  to  the 
windows.     All  three  sat  down  in  the  second,  where 


364  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

the  discounter  kept  himself  before  a  fire-place  full 
of  ashes,  in  the  midst  of  which  the  wood  defended 
itself  against  the  flame.  Popinot's  soul  was  chilled 
by  the  usurer's  green  cartons,  by  the  monastic  rigid- 
ness  of  that  office,  in  which  the  air  was  like  that  of 
a  cave.  He  looked  with  a  dullard  air  at  the  some- 
what bluish  paper  on  which  were  scattered  tricolor 
flowers  pasted  to  the  walls  for  the  past  twenty-five 
years,  and  carried  back  his  saddened  eyes  to  the 
mantel-piece,  adorned  with  a  clock  in  the  form  of  a 
lyre  and  with  oblong  vases  of  Sevres  blue,  richly 
mounted  with  gilt  copper.  This  piece  of  jetsam, 
picked  up  by  Gigonnet  in  the  shipwreck  of  Versailles, 
where  the  populace  broke  everything,  came  from 
the  queen's  boudoir ;  but  this  magnificent  article 
was  accompanied  by  two  candlesticks  of  the  most 
wretched  design,  in  wrought  iron,  that  recalled  by 
this  wild  contrast  the  circumstance  that  brought  it 
here. 

"I  know  that  you  cannot  have  come  on  your  own 
account,"  said  Gigonnet,  "but  in  behalf  of  the  great 
Birotteau.     Well,  friends,  what's  up  there?" 

"I  know  that  you  have  nothing  to  learn,  and  so  we 
will  be  brief,"  said  Pillerault.  "You  hold  some 
notes  in  Claperon's  favor.-"' 

"Yes." 

"Will  you  exchange  the  first  fifty  thousand  for 
these  notes  of  Monsieur  Popinot,  at  a  discount,  of 
course?" 

Gigonnet  took  off  his  frightful  green  cap,  which 
seemed  to  have  been  born  with  him,  showed  his 


IN  MISFORTUNE  365 

cranium  of  the  color  of  fresh  butter  and  devoid 
of  hair,  made  his  Voltairian  grimace,  and  said: 

"You  want  to  pay  me  in  hair  oil,  though  1  have 
no  hair?" 

"As  you  are  only  poking  fun,  we  have  only  to 
take  our  leave,"  said  Pillerault. 

"You  talk  like  the  wise  man  that  you  are,"  Gi- 
gonnet  said  to  him,  with  a  flattering  smile. 

"Well,  if  I  endorsed  Monsieur  Popinot's  notes?" 
said  Pillerault,  as  he  made  a  final  effort. 

"You  are  bar  gold.  Monsieur  Pillerault ;  but  I  have 
no  need  of  gold.     I  must  have  my  money  only." 

Pillerault  and  Popinot  bade  him  good-day  and  left. 
At  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  Popinot's  limbs  still  shook 
under  him. 

"Is  it  a  man?"  said  he  to  Pillerault. 

"It  is  so  pretended,"  rejoined  the  old  man. 
"Always  remember  that  short  session,  Anselme! 
You  have  just  seen  banking  without  the  masquer- 
ade of  its  pleasant  forms.  Unforeseen  events  are 
the  vise  of  the  press.  We  are  the  grapes,  and  bankers 
are  the  vats.  The  affair  of  the  land  is  no  doubt 
good;  Gigonnet,  or  someone  behind  him,  wants  to 
strangle  Cesar  that  he  may  clothe  himself  in  his 
skin.  Everything  has  been  said;  there  is  no  further 
remedy.  That  is  banking.  Never  have  recourse  to 
it!" 

After  that  frightful  morning,  on  which,  for  the 
first  time,  Madame  Birotteau  took  the  addresses  of 
those  who  came  to  look  for  their  money  and  sent 
away  the  Bank  messenger  without  paying  him,  at 


366  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

eleven  o'clock,  this  brave  woman,  happy  in  having 
spared  her  husband  these  sorrows,  saw  Anselme  and 
Pillerault  returning,  while  awaiting  whom  she  had 
been  a  prey  to  increasing  anxieties.  She  read  her 
sentence  on  their  countenances.  The  closing  out 
of  the  business  was  inevitable. 

"He  is  going  to  die  of  grief,"  said  the  poor 
woman. 

"1  wish  that  he  may,"  Pillerault  said,  gravely ; 
"but  he  is  so  religious  that,  in  the  present  circum- 
stances, his  director,  the  Abbe  Loraux,  can  alone 
save  him." 

Pillerault,  Popinot  and  Constance  waited  for  a 
clerk  to  be  sent  for  the  Abbe  Loraux  before  present- 
ing the  balance  sheet  that  Celestin  was  preparing  for 
Cesar's  signature.  The  clerks  were  in  despair; 
they  loved  their  employer.  At  four  o'clock  the 
good  priest  arrived.  Constance  told  him  of  the  mis- 
fortune that  had  befallen  them,  and  the  Abbe  Loraux 
went  up  as  a  soldier  goes  up  to  the  breach. 

"I  know  why  you  come,"  Birotteau  exclaimed. 

"My  son,"  said  the  priest,  "your  sentiments  of 
resignation  to  the  Divine  Will  have  long  been 
known  to  me;  but  it  is  a  question  of  applying 
them.  Keep  your  eyes  constantly  on  the  Cross. 
Never  cease  to  look  upon  it  while  thinking  of  the 
humiliations  to  which  the  Saviour  of  mankind 
was  treated,  how  cruel  His  passion  was,  and  you 
will  thus  be  able  to  bear  the  mortifications  that  God 
sends  you — " 

"My  brother,  the  Abbe,  has  already  prepared  me, " 


IN  MISFORTUNE  367 

said  Cesar,  as  he  showed  him  the  letter,  which  he 
had  re-read,  and  v/hich  he  handed  to  his  confessor. 

"You  have  a  good  brother,"  said  Monsieur 
Loraux,  "a  virtuous  and  sweet  wife,  a  tender  daugh- 
ter, two  real  friends,  your  uncle  and  dear  Anselme, 
two  indulgent  creditors,  the  Ragons;  all  these  kind 
hearts  will  incessantly  shed  balm  on  your  wounds 
and  aid  you  to  bear  your  cross.  Promise  me  that 
you  will  have  the  firmness  of  a  martyr  to  face  the 
blow  without  wincing." 

The  Abbe  coughed  so  as  to  notify  Pillerault,  who 
was  in  the  salon. 

"My  resignation  is  unbounded,"  said  Cesar, 
calmly.  "Dishonor  has  come;  I  should  think  only 
of  reparation." 

The  poor  perfumer's  voice  and  his  manner  sur- 
prised Cesarine  and  the  priest.  Yet  nothing  was 
more  natural.  All  men  bear  better  a  known,  defi- 
nite misfortune,  than  the  cruel  alternatives  of  a  lot 
which,  from  one  moment  to  another,  brings  either 
excessive  joy  or  extreme  pain. 

"I  have  dreamt  during  twenty-two  years,  I  re- 
awaken to-day  with  my  cudgel  in  my  hand,"  said 
Cesar,  become  a  Touraine  peasant  once  more. 

On  hearing  these  words,  Pillerault  clasped  his 
nephew  in  his  arms.  Cesar  observed  his  wife, 
Anselme  and  Celestin.  The  papers  that  the  chief 
clerk  held  in  his  hand  were  very  significant.  Cesar 
tranquilly  contemplated  that  group,  in  which  all  the 
countenances  were  sad,  but  friendly. 

"One  moment!"  he  said,  as  he  took  off  his  cross, 


368  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

which  he  handed  to  the  Abbe  Loraux;  "you  shall 
give  it  back  to  me  when  1  will  be  able  to  wear  it 
without  shame.  Celestin, "  he  added,  addressing 
his  clerk,  "write  my  resignation  as  mayor's  deputy. 
The  Abbe  will  dictate  the  letter  to  you.  You  will 
date  it  the  fourteenth,  and  have  Raguet  take  it  to 
Monsieur  de  la  Billardiere. " 

Celestin  and  the  Abbe  Loraux  went  down  stairs. 
For  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  a  deep  silence  reigned 
in  Cesar's  office.  Such  firmness  surprised  the  fam- 
ily. Celestin  and  the  Abbe  returned;  Cesar  signed 
his  resignation.  When  Uncle  Pillerault  laid  the 
balance  sheet  before  him,  the  poor  man  could  not 
repress  a  horrible,  nervous  movement. 

"O !  God,  have  pity  on  me !"  he  said,  as  he  signed 
the  terrible  document  and  handed  it  to  Celestin. 

"Monsieur,  Madame,"  then  said  Anselme  Popinot, 
over  whose  clouded  brow  there  passed  a  luminous 
flash,  "do  me  the  honor  of  giving  me  Mademoiselle 
Cesarine's  hand," 

At  this  phrase  all  those  present  had  tears  in  their 
eyes,  except  Cesar,  who  arose,  took  Anselme's 
hand,  and  in  a  hollow  voice  said  to  him: 

"My  boy,  you  will  never  marry  a  bankrupt's 
daughter." 

Anselme  looked  fixedly  at  Birotteau: 

"Sir,  you  engage,  in  the  presence  of  your  whole 
family,  to  consent  to  our  marriage,  if  the  young  lady 
accepts  me  for  her  husband,  the  day  on  which  you 
will  be  released  from  your  insolvency?" 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  during  which  each 


IN  MISFORTUNE  369 

one  was  moved  by  the  sensations  that  were  pictured 
on  the  perfumer's  dejected  countenance. 

"Yes,"  he  said  at  last. 

Anselme  made  an  indescribable  gesture  in  order 
to  take  Cesarine's  hand;  she  extended  it  to  him, 
and  he  tcissed  it. 

"You  consent  also?"  he  asked  of  Cesar ine. 

"Yes,"  she  said. 

"1  am,  then,  one  of  the  family  at  last  I  have  the 
right  to  concern  myself  with  its  affairs,"  he  said, 
with  a  peculiar  expression. 

Anselme  left  precipitately,  so  as  not  to  show  a  joy 
that  would  contrast  too  much  with  his  master's 
grief.  Anselme  was  not  precisely  happy,  on  account 
of  the  failure,  but  love  is  so  mastering,  so  egoistic! 
Cesarine  herself  felt  in  her  heart  an  emotion  that 
was  not  in  keeping  with  her  bitter  sadness. 

"While  we  are  at  it, "  said  Pillerault,  in  Cesar- 
ine's ear,  "let  us  strike  every  blow." 

Madame  Birotteau  let  slip  a  sign  of  grief,  and  not 
of  assent. 

"Nephew,"  said  Pillerault,  addressing  Cesar, 
"what  do  you  think  of  doing?" 

"Continuing  business." 

"That  is  not  my  advice,"  said  Pillerault. 
"Wind  up  and  divide  your  assets  among  your  cred- 
itors. Never  again  reappear  as  a  business  man  in 
Paris.  I  have  often  supposed  myself  in  a  position 
similar  to  yours — Ah!  everything  must  be  foreseen 
in  trade !  The  merchant  who  does  not  think  of  insol- 
vency is  like  a  general  who  would  count  on  never 
24 


370  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

being  beaten;  he  is  only  half  a  merchant — As  for 
me,  I  never  would  have  continued.  What!  always 
abashed  in  the  presence  of  men  to  whom  I  have 
done  wrong,  receive  their  distrustful  looks  and  their 
tacit  reproaches?  I  think  of  the  guillotine! — in  an 
instant  all  is  ended.  But  to  have  a  head  that 
springs  up  again  and  feels  itself  cut  off  every  day, 
is  a  punishment  that  I  would  try  to  evade.  Many 
people  resume  business  as  if  nothing  had  happened 
to  them !  So  much  the  better ; — they  are  stronger 
than  Claude- Joseph  Pillerault  If  you  do  a  cash 
business,  and  you  are  bound  to  it,  people  say  that 
you  know  how  to  look  out  for  a  rainy  day;  if  you 
are  without  a  sou,  you  can  never  raise  yourself 
again.  Good  evening!  Give  up  your  assets,  then, 
let  your  property  be  sold,  and  do  something  else." 

"But  what?"  Cesar  asked. 

"Eh!"  said  Pillerault,  "look  for  a  situation. 
Have  you  no  influence?  The  Due  and  Duchesse 
de  Lenoncourt,  Madame  de  Mortsauf,  Monsieur  de 
Vandenesse!  Write  to  them,  see  them.  They  will 
place  you  in  the  king's  household  with  about  a 
thousand  crowns;  your  wife  will  get  quite  as  much; 
your  daughter,  perhaps,  also.  The  crisis  is  not  so 
desperate.  The  three  of  you  together  will  bring  in 
nearly  ten  thousand  francs  a  year.  In  ten  years  you 
could  pay  a  hundred  thousand  francs,  for  you  will 
take  nothing  from  what  you  earn  :  your  two  women 
will  have  fifteen  hundred  francs  at  my  house  for  ex- 
penses, and  as  for  you,  we  will  see!" 

Constance,  and  not  Cesar,  meditated  on  these 


IN  MISFORTUNE  371 

wise  words.  Pillerault  directed  his  course  towards 
the  Bourse,  then  in  a  temporary  wooden  building, 
and  which  formed  a  round  hall,  to  which  entrance 
was  had  from  the  Rue  Feydeau.  The  perfumer's 
failure,  expected  and  hinted  at,  already  known,  in 
fact,  was  the  general  talk  in  the  higher  circle  of 
trade,  then  constitutional.  The  Liberal  dealers  saw 
in  Birotteau's  feast  a  bold  manoeuvre  against  their 
opinions.  The  Opposition  folk  wanted  to  have  the 
monopoly  of  love  of  country.  Let  the  Royalists  be 
allowed  to  love  the  king,  but  to  love  the  country 
was  the  privilege  of  the  Left:  the  people  belonged 
to  it.  It  was  wrong  in  the  Government  to  rejoice, 
through  its  organs,  by  reason  of  an  event  that  the 
Liberals  wanted  to  turn  to  their  own  account  exclu- 
sively. The  fall  of  a  protege  of  the  Chateau,  of  a 
ministerialist,  of  an  incorrigible  royalist,  who,  on 
the  thirteenth  Vendemiaire,  insulted  liberty  by 
fighting  against  the  glorious  French  Revolution — this 
fall  excited  the  turmoil  and  applause  of  the  Bourse. 
Pillerault  wanted  to  know,  to  study  opinion.  He 
found,  in  one  of  the  most  animated  groups,  Du  Til- 
let,  Gobenheim-Keller,  Nucingen,  old  Guillaume 
and  his  son-in-law,  Joseph  Lebas,  Claparon, 
Gigonnet,  Mongenod,  Camusot,  Gobseck,  Adolphe 
Keller,  Raima,  Chiffreville,  Matifat,  Grindot  and 
Lourdois. 

"Well,  how  prudent  one  ought  to  be!"  said  Go- 
benheim  to  Du  Tillet.  "It  was  only  by  holding  on  by 
a  thread  that  my  brothers-in-law  did  not  grant  a 
credit  to  Birotteau. " 


372  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

"As  for  me,  I  am  in  for  ten  thousand  francs  that  he 
asked  of  me  a  fortnight  ago.  I  gave  them  to  him  on  his 
simple  signature,"  said  Du  Tillet.  "But  he  form- 
erly obliged  me;  I  will  not  regret  losing  that  sum." 

"He  has  done  like  all  the  rest,  has  your  nephew," 
said  Lourdois  to  Pillerault;  "he  gave  feasts!  That 
a  knave  should  try  to  throw  dust  in  people's  eyes, 
so  as  to  inspire  confidence,  I  understand;  but  for  a 
man  who  passed  for  the  cream  of  honest  folk  to  have 
recourse  to  the  tricks  of  that  old  charlatanism,  to 
which  we  always  catch  on!" 

"Like  blood-suckers,"  said  Gobseck. 

"Have  confidence  only  in  those  who  live  in  paltry 
lodgings,  like  Claparon,"  said  Gigonnet. 

"Veil,"  said  big  Baron  Nucingen  to  Du  Tillet, 
"you  vanted  to  blay  me  a  durn  py  zenting  me 
Piroddot.  I  to  nod  know  vy, "  he  said,  as  he  turned 
towards  Gobenheim,  the  manufacturer,  "he  hav 
nod  zent  do  dake  vrom  me  vivdy  douzand  vrancs. 
I  voult  haf  kifen  dem. " 

"Oh!  no,  Baron,"  said  Joseph  Lebas.  "You 
must  have  known  very  well  that  the  Bank  had  re- 
fused his  paper;  you  had  it  rejected  by  the  discount 
committee.  The  affair  of  that  poor  man,  for  whom 
I  still  profess  a  high  esteem,  presents  singular  cir- 
cumstances— " 

Pillerault's  hand  clasped  that  of  Joseph  Lebas. 

"It  is  impossible,  indeed,"  said  Mongenod,  "to 
explain  what  is  happening  unless  we  believe  that 
there  were,  concealed  behind  Gigonnet,  bankers  who 
want  to  kill  the  Madeleine  business." 


IN  MISFORTUNE  373 

"There  is  happening  to  him  what  will  happen  to 
those  who  go  outside  their  specialty,"  said  Clapa- 
ron,  interrupting  Mongenod.  "If  he  had  himself 
mounted  his  Cephalic  Oil,  instead  of  coming  to  en- 
hance for  us  the  value  of  land  in  Paris  by  rushing 
into  speculation,  he  would  have  lost  his  hundred 
thousand  francs  with  Roguin,  but  he  would  not  have 
failed.  He  is  going  to  work  under  the  name  of 
Popinot. " 

"Keep  your  eye  on  Popinot,"  said  Gigonnet. 

Roguin,  according  to  this  group  of  merchants, 
was  the  imfortimate  Roguin,  the  perfumer  was  that 
poor  Birotteau.  The  one  seemed  excused  by  a 
great  passion,  the  other  seemed  more  guilty  because 
of  his  pretensions.  On  leaving  the  Bourse,  Gigon- 
net passed  by  the  Rue  Perrin-Gasselin, before  return- 
ing to  the  Rue  Grenetat,  and  went  to  Madame 
Madou's,  the  dealer  in  dry  fruits. 

"My  big  mamma,"  he  said  to  her,  with  his  cruel 
simplicity,  "well,  how  goes  our  little  trade .''" 

"Smoothly,"  Madame  Madou  said,  respectfully,  as 
she  offered  her  only  chair  to  the  usurer  with  an 
affectionate  servility  that  she  had  had  only  for  the 
dear  departed. 

Mamma  Madou,  who  floored  a  recalcitrant  or  too 
free  wagon  driver,  who  was  not  afraid  to  take  part 
in  the  assault  on  the  Tuileries  on  the  tenth  of  Octo- 
ber, who  bantered  her  best  customers,  capable,  in 
fine,  of  speaking,  without  trembling,  to  the  king  in 
the  name  of  the  Market  ladies.  Angel ique  Madou 
received  Gigonnet  with  profound  respect.     Without 


374  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

strength  in  his  presence,  she  trembled  under  his 
sour  look.  Folk  of  the  people  will  tremble  for  a  long 
time  yet  before  the  executioner,  and  Gigonnet  was 
the  executioner  of  trade.  In  the  Market,  no  power 
is  more  respected  than  that  of  the  man  who  keeps 
money  in  circulation.  The  other  human  institu- 
tions are  nothing  compared  with  it.  Justice  itself 
is  translated  in  the  eyes  of  the  Market  by  commis- 
sary, the  personage  with  whom  it  is  associated. 
But  usury,  seated  behind  its  green  cartons,  usury 
implored  with  fear  in  the  heart,  dries  up  pleasantry, 
parches  the  throat,  humbles  the  pride  of  look  and 
makes  people  respectful. 

"Have  you  anything  to  ask  of  me?"  she  said. 

"A  nothing,  a  trifle:  keep  yourself  in  readi- 
ness to  meet  the  Birotteau  notes;  the  poor  man  has 
failed.  Everything  becomes  demandable.  I  will  send 
you  the  account  to-morrow  morning." 

Madame  Madou's  eyes  were  first  concentrated  like 
those  of  a  female  cat,  and  then  vomited  flames. 

"Ha!  the  beggar!  the  scoundrel.  He  came  here 
himself  to  tell  me  that  he  was  deputy,  to  fly  colors 
for  me!  Matigot,  it  goes  like  that,  trade  does!  No 
more  faith  in  mayors.  The  Government  is  deceiving 
us.  Just  wait.  I  am  going  to  go  and  make  him  pay 
me,  I-" 

"Eh!  in  those  matters,  each  pulls  himself  out  as 
he  can,  my  dear  child!"  said  Gigonnet,  as  he 
raised  his  leg  with  that  dry  little  movement  like 
to  that  of  a  cat  trying  to  pass  a  place  that  is 
damp,  and  to  which   it  owes   its   name.     "There 


IN  MISFORTUNE  375 

are  big-wigs  that  think  of  withdrawing  their  pin 
from  the  game." 

"Good!  good!  I  am  going  to  withdraw  my  hazel- 
nuts. Marie  Jeanne!  my  stockings  and  my  rab- 
bit's-hair  cashmere,  and  quick,  or  I  will  warm  you 
with  a  box  on  the  ears." 

"It's  going  to  be  hot  in  the  upper  end  of  the 
street,"  Gigonnet  said  to  himself,  as  he  rubbed  his 
hands.  "DuTilletwill  be  satisfied;  there  will  be 
scandal  in  the  quarter.  I  do  not  know  what  that 
poor  devil  of  a  perfumer  has  done  to  him ;  as  for  me, 
I  pity  him  as  a  dog  that  breaks  his  paw.  He  is  not 
a  man ;    he  has  no  strength." 

Madame  Madou  rushed  out,  like  an  insurrection 
in  the  Faubourg  Saint-Antoine,  at  seven  o'clock  in 
the  evening,  to  poor  Birotteau's  door,  which  she 
opened  with  excessive  violence,  for  the  walk  had 
still  further  animated  her  spirits. 

"Heap  of  vermin,  I  must  have  my  money,  I  want 
my  money!  You  will  give  me  my  money,  or  I'm 
going  to  carry  off  sachets,  satin  gewgaws,  fans,  in 
fine,  merchandise,  for  my  two  thousand  francs! 
Has  anyone  ever  seen  mayors  stealing  from  those 
they  govern !  If  you  do  not  pay  me,  I  will  send  him 
to  the  galleys.  I  am  going  to  the  king's  attorney. 
The  dread  of  justice  will  have  its  effect!  Take 
notice.     I  do  not  leave  here  without  my  money." 

She  made  a  show  of  wanting  to  take  the  glass 
from  a  case  in  which  were  valuable  articles. 

"The  Madou  is  carrying  on,"  Celestin  said  to  his 
neighbor,  in  a  low  voice. 


376  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

The  female  dealer  heard  the  word,  for  in  the  par- 
oxysms of  passion  the  organs  are  either  obliterated 
or  perfected,  according  to  constitutions,  and  she  ap- 
plied to  Celestin's  ear  the  most  vigorous  cuff  that 
was  ever  given  in  a  perfumery  shop. 

"Learn  to  respect  woman,  my  angel,"  she  said, 
"and  not  to  smirch  the  name  of  those  you  are 
robbing." 

"Madame,"  said  Madame  Birotteau,  as  she  came 
out  of  the  rear  shop,  where,  perchance,  was  her  hus- 
band, whom  Uncle  Pillerault  wanted  to  take  away, 
and  who,  in  order  to  obey  the  law,  drove  humility 
so  far  as  to  want  to  let  himself  be  taken  to  prison ; 
"Madame,  for  Heaven's  sake,  don't  make  a  disturb- 
ance among  the  passers-by." 

"Eh!  let  them  come  in, "  said  the  woman.  "I  will 
tell  'em  about  the  matter,  a  story  to  make  them 
laugh !  Yes,  my  merchandise  and  my  crowns,  gath- 
ered up  with  the  sweat  of  my  brow,  help  to  give 
your  balls.  In  fme,  you  go  about  clad  like  a 
queen  of  France  with  the  wool  that  you  have  shorn 
from  poor  lambs  like  me!  Jesus!  It  would  burn 
my  shoulders,  yes,  mine,  stolen  property  would!  I 
have  only  rabbit's-hair  on  my  carcass,  but  it  is 
mine.     Brigands  of  robbers,  my  money  or—" 

She  grasped  a  pretty  inlaid  box  in  which  were 
valuable  toilet  articles. 

"Leave  that  alone,  Madame,"  said  Cesar,  as  he 
showed  himself.  "Nothing  here  belongs  to  me; 
everything  belongs  to  my  creditors.  I  no  longer 
own  but  my  own  person,  and,  if  you  wish  to  take 


IN   MISFORTUNE  377 

possession  of  it,  put  me  in  prison.  I  give  you  my 
word  of  honor — a  tear  sprang  from  his  eyes — that  1 
will  wait  for  your  constable,  the  sheriff's  officer 
and  his  attendants — " 

The  tone  and  gesture,  in  harmony  with  the  action, 
made  Madame  Madou's  wrath  fall. 

"My  money  has  been  carried  away  by  a  notary, 
and  1  am  innocent  of  the  disasters  that  1  am  caus- 
ing," Cesar  continued;  "but  you  will  be  paid  in 
time,  should  I  die  in  the  effort  and  have  to  work  as 
a  laborer  in  the  Market,  taking  the  position  of 
porter." 

"Come,  you  are  a  brave  man,"  said  the  Market 
woman.  "Pardon  my  words,  Madame;  but  I  must, 
then,  throw  myself  into  the  river,  for  Gigonnet  is 
going  to  push  me,  and  1  have  only  ten  months' 
paper  with  which  to  take  up  your  damned  notes." 

"Come  and  see  me  to-morrow  morning, "  said  Pil- 
lerault,  as  he  showed  himself.  "I  will  arrange  your 
affair  for  five  per  cent,  with  one  of  my  friends." 

"What!  it's  that  good  old  man  Pillerault.  Eh! 
but  he  is  your  uncle,"  she  said  to  Constance. 
"Come,  you  are  honest  folks.  I  will  not  lose  any- 
thing, will  1? — To-morrow,  old  Brutus,"  she  said  to 
the  former  dealer  in  iron  and  copper  ware. 

Cesar  wanted  to  insist  on  remaining  amid  his 
ruins,  saying  that  he  could  thus  explain  himself  to 
all  his  creditors.  In  spite  of  his  niece's  entreaties. 
Uncle  Pillerault  encouraged  Cesar,  and  made  him 
go  up  to  his  rooms.  The  shrewd  old  man  ran  to 
Doctor  Haudry's,  explained  Birotteau's  condition  to 


3/8  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

him,  got  a  prescription  for  a  sleep-giving  potion, 
went  to  order  it  and  returned  to  spend  the  evening 
with  his  nephew.  In  concert  with  Cesarine,  he 
forced  Cesar  to  drink  like  them.  The  narcotic  put 
the  perfumer  to  sleep,  and  he  reawoke,  fourteen 
hours  later,  in  his  Uncle  Pillerault's  room,  in  the 
Rue  des  Bourdonnais,  imprisoned  by  the  old  man, 
who  himself  slept  on  a  folding-bed  in  his  salon. 
When  Constance  heard  the  rumbling  of  the  hack  in 
which  her  Uncle  Pillerault  was  taking  Cesar  away, 
her  courage  failed  her.  Our  strength  is  often 
stimulated  by  the  necessity  of  supporting  a  being 
weaker  than  ourselves.  The  poor  woman  wept  on 
finding  herself  alone  in  her  own  house  with  her 
daughter,  as  she  would  have  wept  for  Cesar  dead. 

"Mamma,"  said  Cesarine,  as  she  sat  down  on  her 
mother's  knees  and  caressed  her  with  those  feline 
graces  that  women  use  well  only  among  themselves, 
"you  have  told  me  that  if  I  took  my  part  bravely, 
you  would  find  strength  against  adversity.  Do  not 
weep,  then,  my  dear  mother ;  I  am  ready  to  enter 
any  shop,  and  I  will  no  longer  think  of  what  we 
have  been.  I  will  be,  as  you  in  your  youth,  a  head 
girl,  and  you  will  never  hear  a  complaint  or  a 
regret.  I  have  a  hope.  Have  you  not  heard  Mon- 
sieur Popinot.'"' 

"The  dear  youth.  He  will  not  be  my  son-in- 
law—" 

"Oh!   mamma — " 

"He  will  really  and  truly  be  my  son." 

"Misfortune,"  said  Cesarine,  as  she  embraced  her 


IN  MISFORTUNE  379 

mother,  *'has  that  much  of  good  in  it  that  it  tells  us 
how  to  know  our  true  friends." 

Cesarine  succeeded  in  soothing  the  poor  woman's 
grief  by  playing  towards  her  the  part  of  a  mother. 
Next  morning,  Constance  went  to  the  Due  de  Lenon- 
court's,  one  of  the  first  gentlemen  of  the  king's 
chamber,  and  there  left  a  letter  in  which  she  asked  of 
him  an  audience  at  a  certain  hour  of  the  day.  In  the 
meanwhile,  she  came  to  Monsieur  de  la  Billardi^re's, 
stated  to  him  the  plight  in  which  the  notary's  flight 
had  put  Cesar,  entreated  him  to  plead  his  cause 
with  the  Due  and  to  speak  for  her,  being  afraid  that 
she  would  explain  herself  badly.  She  wanted  a 
place  for  Birotteau.  Birotteau  would  be  the  most 
honest  of  cashiers,  if  there  was  any  distinction  to  be 
made  in  honesty. 

"The  king  has  just  appointed  the  Comte  de  Fon- 
taine to  the  general  directorship  in  the  management 
of  his  household.     There  is  no  time  to  lose." 

At  two  o'clock  La  Billardiere  and  Madame  Cesar 
ascended  the  great  stairway  of  the  hotel  de  Lenon- 
court.  Rue  Saint-Dominique,  and  were  introduced 
to  that  one  of  his  gentlemen  whom  the  king  pre- 
ferred, if  it  be  that  King  Louis  XVllI.  had  any 
preferences.  The  gracious  reception  accorded  by 
this  great  lord,  who  belonged  to  the  small  num- 
ber of  the  real  gentlemen  whom  the  preceding  cen- 
tury had  bequeathed  to  this  one,  gave  hope  to 
Madame  Cesar.  The  perfumer's  wife  showed  her- 
self great  and  simple  in  grief.  Grief  ennobles  the 
most  commonplace  persons,  for  it  has  its  grandeur; 


380  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

and,  to  receive  lustre  from  it,  it  suffices  for  it  to  be 
genuine.  Constance  was  an  essentially  true  woman. 
It  was  necessary  to  speak  to  the  king  at  once. 

In  the  midst  of  the  conference,  Monsieur  de  Van- 
denesse  was  announced,  and  the  Due  exclaimed: 

"There  is  your  savior!" 

Madame  Birotteau  was  not  unknown  to  this 
young  man,  who  had  come  to  her  house  once  or 
twice  to  ask  there  for  trifles,  often  as  important  as 
great  things.  The  Due  explained  La  Billardiere's 
intentions.  On  learning  of  the  misfortune  that  had 
overwhelmed  the  godson  of  the  Marquise  d'Uxelles, 
Vandenesse  went  at  once,  along  with  La  Billardiere, 
to  the  Comte  de  Fontaine's,  entreating  Madame 
Birotteau  to  wait  for  him. 

The  Comte  de  Fontaine  was,  like  La  Billardiere, 
one  of  those  fine  provincial  gentlemen,  those  almost 
unknown  heroes  who  made  the  fame  of  La  Vendee. 
Birotteau  was  not  a  stranger  to  him;  he  had  form- 
erly seen  him  at  La  Reme  des  Roses.  The  people 
who  had  risked  their  all  for  the  royal  cause  enjoyed 
at  that  time  privileges  that  the  king  kept  secret,  so 
as  not  to  irritate  the  Liberals.  Monsieur  de  Fon- 
taine, one  of  Louis  XVlll. 's  favorites,  passed  for 
being  entirely  in  his  confidence.  Not  only  did  the 
Comte  positively  promise  a  place,  but  he  came  to 
the  house  of  the  Due  de  Lenoncourt,  then  in  ser- 
vice, to  entreat  him  to  get  a  moment's  audience  in 
the  afternoon  and  to  ask  for  La  Billardiere  an  audi- 
ence with  Monsieur,  who  was  particularly  fond  of 
this  old  Vendean  diplomat. 


That  very  evening  the  Comte  de  Fontaine  went 
from  the  Tuileries  to  Madame  Birotteau's,  to  tell  her 
that  her  husband  would,  after  he  had  made  settle- 
ment, be  officially  appointed  to  a  place  at  two  thous- 
and five  hundred  francs  in  the  Sinking  Fund  office, 
as  all  the  places  in  the  king's  household  were  then 
filled  with  supernumerary  nobles,  to  whom  they  had 
been  pledged. 

This  success  was  only  a  part  of  Madame  Birot- 
teau's task.  The  poor  woman  went  to  the  Rue 
Saint-Denis,  to  the  Chat  qui  pelole,  to  find  Joseph 
Lebas.  During  this  journey  she  met,  in  a  brilliant 
equipage,  Madame  Roguin,  who,  no  doubt,  was  mak- 
ing purchases.  Her  eyes  and  those  of  the  notary's 
pretty  wife  met.  The  shame  that  the  happy 
woman  could  not  repress  as  she  saw  the  ruined 
woman  gave  Constance  courage. 

"Never  will  1  ride  in  a  carriage  with  other  peo- 
ple's money,"  she  said  to  herself. 

Wellreceived  by  Joseph  Lebas,  she  entreated 
him  to  procure  for  her  daughter  a  situation  in  a 
respectable  business  house.  Lebas  promised  noth- 
ing; but,  a  week  later,  Cesarine  had  board,  lodging 
and  a  thousand  crowns  in  the  richest  novelty  house 
in  Paris,  which  was  founding  a  new  establishment 
in  the  Quartier  des  Italiens.  The  cash  and  the  over- 
seeing of  the  shop  were  entrusted  to  the  perfumer's 

{381) 


382  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

daughter,   who,   put  over  the  head   girl,   took  the 
place  of  the  master  and  mistress  of  the  house. 

As  for  Madame  Cesar,  she  went  that  very  day  to 
Popinot's  to  ask  him  for  the  care  in  his  house  of 
the  cash,  the  correspondence  and  the  housekeeping. 
Popinot  saw  that  his  house  was  the  only  one  in 
which  the  perfumer's  wife  could  find  the  respect 
that  was  due  to  her  and  a  position  devoid  of  inferi- 
ority. The  noble  youth  gave  her  three  thousand 
francs  a  year,  board,  his  own  lodgings  that  he  had 
fitted  up,  and  took  for  himself  a  clerk's  garret. 
Thus  the  pretty  perfumeress,  after  having  enjoyed 
the  luxuries  of  her  tenement  for  a  month,  had  to 
dwell  in  that  horrible  room,  looking  out  on  the  dark 
and  damp  court,  where  Gaudissart,  Anselme  and 
Finot  had  inaugurated  the  Cephalic  Oil. 

When  Molineux,  appointed  receiver  by  the  Tribu- 
nal of  Commerce,  came  to  take  possession  of  Cesar 
Birotteau's  assets,  Constance,  assisted  by  Celestin, 
verified  the  inventory  with  him.  Then  the  mother 
and  daughter  left,  on  foot,  in  simple  garb,  and 
went  to  their  Uncle  Pillerault's  without  looking 
back,  after  having  dwelt  in  that  house  the  third 
part  of  a  life-time.  They  walked  in  silence  towards 
the  Rue  des  Bourdonnais,  where  they  dined  with 
Cesar  for  the  first  time  since  their  separation.  It 
was  a  sad  dinner.  Each  had  had  time  to  make  his 
or  her  own  reflections,  to  measure  the  extent  of 
their  obligations  and  to  sound  their  courage.  All 
three  were,  as  it  were,  sailors  ready  to  struggle  with 
stormy  weather,  without  deceiving  themselves  as  to 


IN  MISFORTUNE  383 

the  danger.  Birotteau  regained  courage  on  learning 
withi  what  solicitude  great  personages  had  arranged 
an  opportunity  for  him;  but  he  wept  when  he 
learned  what  was  going  to  become  of  his  daughter. 
Then  he  extended  his  hand  to  his  wife  as  he  saw 
the  courage  with  which  she  began  to  work  once 
more. 

Uncle  Pillerault  had  his  eyes  moistened  for  the 
last  time  in  his  life  at  the  sight  of  the  touching 
picture  of  these  three  united  beings  mingled  in  an 
embrace,  in  the  midst  of  which  Birotteau,  the  weak- 
est of  the  three,  the  most  broken  down,  raised  his 
hand  as  he  said: 

"Let  us  hope!" 

"For  economy's  sake,"  said  the  uncle,  "you  will 
lodge  with  me,  keep  my  room  and  share  my  bread. 
I  have  long  been  tired  of  being  alone;  you  will 
take  the  place  of  that  poor  boy  whom  I  lost  From 
here  you  will  have  only  a  step  to  go,  by  the  Rue  de 
rOratoire,  to  your  office." 

"God  of  Mercy,"  exclaimed  Birotteau,  "when 
the  storm  is  at  its  height  a  star  guides  me." 

By  being  resigned,  the  unfortunate  man  consum- 
mates his  misfortune.  Birotteau's  fall  was  from  that 
time  accomplished.  He  gave  his  consent  to  it;  he 
became  strong  again. 

After  having  stopped  payment,  a  dealer  should  no 
longer  concern  himself  about  anything  but  finding 
an  oasis  in  France  or  abroad,  and  live  there  without 
taking  part  in  anything,  like  the  child  that  he  is: 
the  law  declares    him   a  minor   and  incapable  of 


384  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

every  legal  act,  both  civil  and  civic.  But  such  is 
not  the  case.  Before  reappearing,  he  awaits  a  pass- 
port which  has  never  been  refused  by  either  a  com- 
missary-judge or  a  creditor,  for,  if  he  were  found 
without  this  exeat,  he  would  be  sent  to  prison; 
while,  armed  with  this  safeguard,  he  walks  like  a 
member  of  parliament,  into  the  enemy's  camp,  not 
out  of  curiosity,  but  to  baffle  the  unfavorable  intent 
of  the  law  in  relation  to  insolvents.  The  effect  of 
every  law  that  touches  on  private  fortune  is  to  give 
a  prodigious  development  to  the  knaveries  of  the 
mind.  The  concern  of  insolvents,  as  of  all  those 
whose  interests  are  thwarted  by  any  law  whatever, 
is  to  annul  it  in  their  own  regard.  The  condition 
of  civil  death,  in  which  the  insolvent  remains,  as  it 
were,  in  the  chrysalis  state,  lasts  about  three 
months,  the  time  required  by  the  formalities  before 
reaching  the  meeting  at  which  is  signed,  between 
creditor  and  debtor,  a  treaty  of  peace,  a  transaction 
called  the  agreement.  This  word  clearly  indicates 
that  'harmony  reigns  after  the  tempest  stirred  up 
between  violently  opposing  interests. 

On  examining  the  balance-sheet,  the  Tribunal  of 
Commerce  immediately  appoints  a  commissary- 
judge,  who  watches  over  the  interests  of  the  bulk  of 
the  unknown  creditors,  and  has  also  to  protect  the 
insolvent  against  vexatious  doings  on  the  part  of 
his  irritated  creditors:  a  double  part  that  it  would 
be  glorious  to  play  if  commissary-judges  had  the 
time  for  it.  This  commissary-judge  invests  a 
receiver   with   the    right   of    handling    funds,    bills 


IN  MISFORTUNE  385 

collectible,  and  merchandise,  of  verifying  the  assets 
carried  on  the  balance-sheet;  in  fine,  the  clerk  of 
the  court  calls  all  the  creditors  together,  and  this  is 
done  by  the  trumpet  call  of  advertisements  in  the 
newspapers.  The  creditors,  whether  genuine  or  not, 
are  bound  to  come  and  get  together  in  order  to  name 
provisional  assignees,  who  take  the  place  of  the  re- 
ceiver, stand,  as  it  were,  in  the  insolvent's  shoes, 
become,  by  a  fiction  of  the  law,  the  insolvent  him- 
self, and  may  liquidate  everything,  sell  everything, 
pass  upon  everything,  and,  finally,  cast  the  die 
for  the  profit  of  the  creditors,  unless  the  insolvent 
be  opposed  to  it  Most  failures  in  Paris  stop  with 
the  provisional  assignees,  and  this  is  why: 

The  appointment  of  one  or  more  definite  assignees 
is  one  of  the  most  anxious  acts  in  which  creditors, 
excited  by  the  spirit  of  revenge,  laughed  at,  scouted, 
bantered,  taken  in,  duped,  robbed  and  cheated,  can 
take  part.  Though  in  general,  creditors  are  cheated, 
robbed,  duped,  taken  in,  bantered,  scouted  and 
laughed  at,  there  does  not  exist  in  Paris  any  com- 
mercial passion  that  lasts  ninety  days.  In  business, 
commercial  notes  are  the  only  ones  made  out,  de- 
manding prompt  payment,  for  three  months.  In 
ninety  days,  all  the  creditors,  worn  out  with  fatigue 
by  the  marches  and  counter-marches  required  by  a 
failure,  sleep  with  their  excellent  little  wives. 
This  may  enable  foreigners  to  understand  how  defin- 
itive in  France  is  the  provisory :  out  of  a  thousand 
provisional  assignees  there  are  not  five  who  become 
definitive.      The  reason   for  this  abjuring  of   the 

25 


386  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

hates  stirred  up  by  failure  will  soon  become  clear. 
But  it  is  necessary  to  explain  the  drama  of  a  failure 
to  people  who  have  not  the  good  luck  to  be  mer- 
chants, in  order  to  make  understood  how  it  consti- 
tutes at  Paris  one  of  the  most  monstrous  of  legal 
pleasantries,  and  how  Cesar's  failure  was  going  to 
be  a  striking  exception. 

This  pretty  commercial  drama  has  three  distinct 
acts:  the  act  of  the  receiver,  the  act  of  the 
assignees,  the  act  of  the  agreement.  Like  all  the- 
atrical pieces,  it  presents  a  double  spectacle:  it  has 
its  setting  for  the  public,  and  its  hidden  machinery; 
there  is  the  representation  seen  from  the  pit  and 
the  representation  observed  from  behind  the  scenes. 
Behind  the  scenes  are  the  insolvent  and  his  proctor, 
the  traders'  lawyer,  the  assignees  and  the  receiver, 
and,  finally,  the  commissary-judge.  No  one  outside 
of  Paris  knows,  and  no  one  in  Paris  but  knows  that 
a  judge  in  the  Tribunal  of  Commerce  is  the  strangest 
magistrate  that  a  community  has  allowed  itself  to 
create.  This  judge  may  at  any  moment  be  in  dread 
of  his  own  justice  in  regard  to  himself.  Paris  has 
seen  the  president  of  its  Tribunal  of  Commerce 
forced  to  stop  payment.  Instead  of  being  a  former 
merchant  retired  from  business,  and  to  whom  this 
magistracy  would  be  the  reward  of  a  well-spent  life, 
this  judge  is  a  trader,  overloaded  with  enormous 
undertakings,  at  the  head  of  an  immense  house. 

The  indispensable  condition  of  the  election  of  this 
judge,  bound  to  pass  on  the  avalanches  of  commer- 
cial trials  that  are  incessantly  rolling  down  in  the 


IN  MISFORTUNE  387 

capital,  is  to  have  much  trouble  in  conducting  his 
own  affairs.  This  Tribunal  of  Commerce,  instead  of 
having  been  instituted  as  a  useful  connecting  lini< 
by  which  the  merchant  would  raise  himself  without 
ridicule  to  the  regions  of  the  nobility,  is  made  up  of 
actual  merchants,  who  may  suffer  from  their  sen- 
tences on  finding  their  parties  dissatisfied,  as  Birot- 
teau  found  Du  Tillet. 

The  commissary-judge  is,  then,  necessarily,  a 
personage  before  whom  much  talking  is  done,  who, 
while  listening,  is  thinking  of  his  business,  and  re- 
fers the  public  matter  from  himself  to  the  assignees 
and  the  proctor,  except  in  a  few  strange  and  singu- 
lar cases,  in  which  thefts  appear  with  curious  cir- 
cumstances, and  make  him  say  that  either  creditors 
or  the  debtor  are  tricky  folks.  This  personage, 
placed  in  the  drama  like  a  royal  bust  in  an  audience 
hall,  sees  himself  in  the  morning,  between  five  and 
seven  o'clock,  in  his  lumber  shed,  if  he  is  a  dealer 
in  woods;  in  his  shop  if,  as  formerly  was  Birotteau, 
he  is  a  perfumer;  or,  in  the  evening,  after  dinner, 
between  the  fruit  and  the  cheese,  always,  more- 
over, dreadfully  in  a  hurry.  Thus  this  personage 
is  generally  mute.  Let  us  do  justice  to  the  law; 
legislation,  made  in  haste,  which  rules  the  matter, 
has  tied  the  commissary-judge's  hands,  and  in  sev- 
eral cases  he  sanctions  frauds  without  being  able  to 
prevent  them,  as  you  are  going  to  see. 

The  receiver,  instead  of  being  the  creditors'  man, 
may  become  the  debtor's  man.  Each  one  hopes  to 
be  able  to  increase  his  share  by  getting  the  insolvent 


388  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

to  favor  him,  and  the  insolvent  is  always  sup- 
posed to  have  hidden  treasure.  The  receiver  may 
act  to  the  advantage  of  both  sides,  either  by  not 
mixing  up  the  insolvent's  affairs,  or  by  securing 
something  for  influential  folk:  he  runs  with  the 
hare  and  hunts  with  the  hounds.  Often  has  a 
shrewd  receiver  had  judgment  rendered  by  redeem- 
ing the  credits  and  relieving  the  merchant,  who 
then  bounds  up  like  an  elastic  ball.  The  receiver 
turns  towards  the  best  furnished  rack,  whether  it 
be  necessary  to  cover  the  strongest  creditors  and 
expose  the  debtor,  or  to  sacrifice  the  creditors  to  the 
merchant's  future.  Thus  the  assignee's  act  is  the 
decisive  act.  This  man,  as  well  as  the  proctor, 
plays  to  the  best  advantage  in  this  piece,  in  which 
they  both  accept  their  positions  only  when  sure  of 
their  fees.  In  an  average  of  a  thousand  failures, 
the  receiver  is  nine  hundred  and  fifty  times  the 
insolvent's  man.  At  the  time  when  this  history 
took  place,  nearly  always  the  proctors  went  to  see 
the  commissary-judge  and  submitted  to  him  the 
name  of  a  receiver  to  be  appointed,  their  own  man, 
a  man  to  whom  the  merchant's  affairs  were  known, 
and  who  knew  how  to  reconcile  the  interests  of  the 
whole  with  those  of  the  honorable  man  who  had 
fallen  into  misfortune.  For  some  years  past  shrewd 
judges  have  had  the  receiver  suggested  who  was 
desired,  in  order  not  to  appoint  him,  and  have  tried 
to  name  one  supposed  to  be  honest. 

During  this  act   the  creditors,  whether  spurious 
or   genuine,  present  themselves,  to   designate   the 


IN  MISFORTUNE  389 

provisory  assignees,  who  are,  as  has  been  said,  defini- 
tive.  In  this  electoral  assembly,  those  have  the 
right  to  vote  to  whom  fifty  sous  are  due,  just  as  much 
as  have  creditors  to  the  amount  of  fifty  thousand 
francs;  the  votes  are  counted,  not  weighed.  This 
assembly,  in  which  are  found  fictitious  creditors  in- 
troduced by  the  insolvent,  the  only  ones  who  never 
fail  to  attend  the  election,  propose  as  candidates  the 
creditors,  from  among  whom  the  commissary-judge, 
president  without  power,  is  bound  to  choose  the 
assignees.  Thus  the  commissary-judge  nearly 
always  takes,  at  the  insolvent's  suggestion,  the 
assignees  whom  it  is  convenient  for  him  to  have: 
another  abuse  that  makes  this  catastrophe  one  of 
the  most  burlesque  dramas  that  justice  can  protect. 
The  honorable  man  who  has  fallen  into  misfortune, 
master  of  the  ground,  then  legalizes  the  theft  that 
he  had  meditated.  Generally,  the  small  trade  of 
Paris  is  free  from  all  blame.  When  a  shopkeeper 
reaches  the  stopping  of  payment,  the  poor  honest 
man  has  sold  his  wife's  shawl,  has  pledged  his  sil- 
verware, has  shot  off  his  last  arrow  and  has  suc- 
cumbed empty  handed,  ruined,  without  money  even 
for  the  proctor,  who  cares  very  little  for  him. 

The  law  wishes  that  the  agreement,  which  restores 
to  the  merchant  a  part  of  his  debt  and  gives  back 
his  business  to  him,  be  voted  by  a  certain  majority 
of  amounts  and  persons.  This  great  work  requires 
skilful  diplomacy  directed  amid  the  contrary  inter- 
ests that  cross  and  butt  against  one  another,  by 
the  insolvent,  his  assignees  and  his  proctor.     The 


390  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

customary,  the  common  procedure,  consists  in  offer- 
ing, to  the  portion  of  the  creditors  who  form  the 
majority  contemplated  by  the  law,  the  instalments 
to  be  paid  by  the  debtor,  besides  the  dividends 
arranged  at  the  agreement.  For  this  gigantic  fraud 
there  is  no  remedy:  the  thirty  Tribunals  of  Com- 
merce that  have  succeeded  one  another  know  it  from 
having  practised  it.  Enlightened  by  long  usage, 
they  came  lately  to  decide  to  annul  notes  stamped 
with  fraud;  and,  as  insolvents  have  an  interest  in 
complaining  of  this  extortion,  the  judges  hope  thus 
to  reform  insolvency:  creditors  will  encounter  some 
method  still  more  villainous,  which  the  judges  will 
frown  down  as  judges,  and  of  which  they  will  take 
advantage  as  merchants. 

Another  trick  very  much  in  use,  to  which  we 
owe  the  expression  bona  fide  creditor,  consists  in 
creating  creditors,  as  Du  Tillet  had  created  a  bank- 
ing-house, and  in  introducing  a  certain  number  of 
Claparons,  under  whose  skin  is  concealed  the  insol- 
vent, who,  from  that  time,  diminishes  by  so  much 
the  real  creditors'  dividends,  and  thus  creates  for 
himself  resources  for  the  future,  while  at  the  same 
time  managing  the  quantity  of  votes  and  sums 
necessary  to  obtain  his  agreement.  The  fictitious 
creditors  are  like  false  electors  introduced  into  the 
electoral  college.  What  can  the  bona  fide  creditor  do 
against  the  fictitious  creditors  ?  Get  rid  of  them  by 
attacking  them!  Good.  To  drive  out  the  intruder 
the  bona  fide  creditor  has  to  give  up  his  business, 
entrust  his  case  to  a  proctor,  which  proctor,  making 


IN  MISFORTUNE  39I 

hardly  anything  out  of  it,  prefers  to  direct  failures 
and  makes  short  work  of  this  petty  case.  To  dis- 
lodge the  sham  creditor,  it  is  necessary  to  enter  into 
the  labyrinth  of  operations,  to  go  back  to  remote 
periods,  to  fumble  through  books,  to  obtain,  by 
authority  of  justice,  the  documents  bearing  on  those 
of  the  false  creditor,  to  discover  the  unlikelihood  of 
the  fiction,  to  demonstrate  it  to  the  judges  of  the 
court,  to  plead,  to  go,  to  come,  to  warm  many  cold 
hearts;  then  to  carry  on  that  Don  Quixote  trade  in 
the  case  of  each  unlawful  and  mock  creditor,  who,  if 
he  comes  to  be  convicted  of  mockery,  retires  salut- 
ing the  judges  and  saying:  "Excuse  me,  you  are 
deceived.  My  claim  is  bona  fide."  And  all  without 
prejudicing  the  rights  of  the  insolvent,  who  can 
bring  the  Don  Quixote  into  the  royal  court.  During 
this  time  the  Don  Quixote's  affairs  are  going  badly, 
and  he  is  likely  to  stop  payment. 

Moral :  The  debtor  names  his  assignees,  veri- 
fies his  credits  and  arranges  his  settlement  himself. 

According  to  these  data,  who  does  not  see  through 
the  intrigues,  Sganarelle  turns,  Frontin  inventions, 
Mascarille  lies  and  Scapin  empty  bags  developed  by 
these  two  systems .?  There  is  not  a  failure  in  which 
enough  are  not  begotten  to  furnish  as  much  matter 
as  is  contained  in  the  fourteen  volumes  of  Clarissa 
Harlowe  to  an  author  who  would  wish  to  describe 
them.  A  single  example  will  suffice.  The  illus- 
trious Gobseck,  the  master  of  the  Palmas,  the 
Gigonnets,  the  Werbrusts,  the  Kellers  and  the  Nu- 
cingens,  having  found   himself   in   a   failure    into 


392  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

which  he  proposed  rudely  to  drag  a  merchant  who 
knew  how  to  trick  him,  received  in  notes,  to  fall  due 
after  the  settlement,  the  sum  which,  added  to  that  of 
the  dividends,  formed  the  sum  total  of  his  credit. 
Gobseck  determined  on  the  acceptance  of  a  settle- 
ment that  gave  seventy-five  per  cent  rebate  to  the 
insolvent  See  the  creditors  played  to  the  advant- 
age of  Gobseck!  But  as  the  merchant  had  signed 
the  unlawful  notes  of  his  firm  in  insolvency,  and 
he  could  apply  to  these  notes  the  deduction  of  sev- 
enty-five per  cent,  Gobseck,  the  great  Gobseck, 
received  scarcely  fifty  per  cent.  He  always  saluted 
his  debtor  with  ironical  respect. 

All  the  operations  in  which  an  insolvent  had  been 
engaged  ten  days  before  his  failure  being  liable  to 
be  overhauled,  some  prudent  men  are  careful  to 
close  up  certain  matters  with  a  certain  number  of 
creditors  whose  interest  it  is,  like  that  of  the  insol- 
vent, to  reach  a  prompt  agreement.  Very  shrewd 
creditors  go  in  search  of  very  simple  or  very  busy 
creditors,  make  the  failure  look  as  ugly  as  possible 
to  them,  and  purchase  their  credits  from  them  at  half 
of  what  they  will  be  worth  at  the  time  of  settle- 
ment, and  then  recover  their  money  from  the  divi- 
dend on  their  credits,  and  the  half,  the  third,  or  the 
fourth  gained  on  the  credits  they  have  purchased. 

Failure  is  the  more  or  less  hermetical  closing  of  a 
house  in  which  pillage  has  left  some  bags  of  money. 
Happy  is  the  merchant  who  crawls  out  through  the 
window,  through  the  roof,  through  the  cellar, 
through  any  hole,  who  takes  a  bag  and  increases 


IN  MISFORTUNE  393 

his  share!  In  that  rout,  in  which  is  heard  the  Be- 
resina  cry  of  "save  himself  who  can!"  everything 
is  legal  and  illegal,  true  and  false,  honest  and  dis- 
honest. A  man  is  admired  if  he  saves  himself.  To 
save  one's  self  is  to  get  possession  of  some  securities 
to  the  detriment  of  the  other  creditors.  France  has 
resounded  with  debate  on  a  great  failure  that  broke 
out  in  a  city  in  which  a  royal  court  sat,  and  in 
which  the  magistrates,  having  current  accounts 
with  the  insolvents,  had  put  on  such  heavy  rubber 
cloaks  that  the  mantle  of  justice  was  thereby  get- 
ting threadbare.  Because  of  legitimate  suspicion,  it 
was  found  necessary  to  refer  the  judgment  on  the 
failure  to  another  court.  There  was  neither  commis- 
sary-judge, nor  receiver,  nor  sovereign  court  possible 
in  the  place  in  which  the  bankruptcy  had  occurred. 
This  frightful  commercial  mess  is  so  well  appre- 
ciated at  Paris  that,  unless  one  be  interested  in  the 
failure  to  the  amount  of  an  important  sum,  every 
merchant,  however  far  from  busy  he  may  be,  accepts 
the  failure  as  a  disaster  without  remedy,  puts 
down  his  share  to  the  account  of  profit  and  loss, 
and  is  not  guilty  of  the  stupidity  of  wasting  his 
time;  he  continues  to  work  at  his  business.  As  for 
the  small  trader,  harassed  by  his  bills  coming  in  at 
the  end  of  the  month,  taken  up  with  following  the 
chariot  of  his  fortune,  a  lawsuit  that  terrifies  by 
reason  of  its  duration,  and  the  costs  it  entails, 
frightens  him;  he  gives  up  seeing  his  way  clear 
through  it,  imitates  the  large  merchant,  and  droops 
his  head  as  he  realizes  his  loss. 


394  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

Large  merchants  no  longer  stop  payment.  They 
settle  amicably:  the  creditors  give  a  receipt  on  tak- 
ing what  is  offered  to  them.  Then  dishonor  is 
avoided,  as  well  as  judiciary  delays,  proctors'  fees, 
and  depreciation  of  merchandise.  Each  one  be- 
lieves that  failure  will  give  less  than  liquidation. 
There  are  more  liquidations  than  failures  in  Paris. 
The  act  of  the  assignees  is  intended  to  prove  that 
every  assignee  is  incorruptible,  that  there  never  is 
the  least  collusion  between  them  and  the  insolvent. 
The  creditors  who  have  been  assignees,  know  that 
every  assignee  is  a  preferred  creditor.  It  listens, 
it  believes  what  it  wishes,  and  reaches  the  day  of 
settlement  after  three  months  spent  in  verifying 
the  proofs  of  the  liabilities  and  the  proofs  of  the 
assets.  The  provisory  assignees  then  make  to  the 
meeting  a  short  report,  the  general  purport  of  which 
is  as  follows: 

"Gentlemen,  a  million  was  due  to  all  of  us  together. 
We  have  chopped  up  our  man  like  an  old  foundered 
frigate.  Nails,  iron,  wood,  and  copper  have  pro- 
duced three  hundred  thousand  francs.  We  have, 
then,  thirty  per  cent  of  our  claims.  Lucky  in  hav- 
ing found  this  sum  when  our  debtor  might  have  left 
us  only  a  hundred  thousand  francs,  we  declare  him 
an  Aristides.  We  vote  him  premiums  for  encourage- 
ment, we  award  him  crowns,  and  propose  to  leave 
him  his  assets,  giving  him  ten  or  twelve  years  to 
pay  us  fifty  per  cent  that  he  is  good  enough  to 
promise  us.  This  is  the  agreement.  Pass  it  on  to 
the  office.     Sign  it!" 


IN  MISFORTUNE  395 

On  hearing  this  discourse,  the  happy  merchants 
congratulate  and  hug  themselves.  After  the  ap- 
proval of  this  settlement,  the  insolvent  again 
becomes  a  merchant  as  before;  his  assets  are 
returned  to  him.  He  begins  his  business  over  again, 
without  being  deprived  of  the  right  of  failing  in  the 
promised  dividends,  a  long-delayed  failure  that  is 
often  to  be  seen,  like  a  child  born  of  a  mother  nine 
months  after  her  daughter's  marriage. 

If  the  settlement  does  not  succeed,  the  creditors 
then  name  definitive  assignees,  take  exorbitant 
measures  by  forming  themselves  into  an  association 
for  the  purpose  of  making  the  most  of  their  debtor's 
property  and  trade,  seizing  everything  that  he  may 
have,  his  inheritance  from  his  father,  his  mother, 
his  aunt,  etc.  This  severe  measure  is  carried  out 
by  means  of  a  contract  of  union. 

There  are,  then,  two  kinds  of  failure:  the  failure 
of  the  merchant  who  wishes  to  get  another  hold  on 
business,  and  the  failure  of  the  merchant  who,  hav- 
ing fallen  into  the  water,  is  satisfied  with  going  to 
the  bottom  of  the  river.  Pillerault  was  well  aware 
of  this  difference.  It  was,  according  to  him,  as 
well  as  according  to  Ragon,  as  difficult  to  come  out 
clean  from  the  first  as  to  come  out  rich  from  the 
second.  After  having  advised  general  surrender, 
he  went  to  speak  to  the  most  upright  proctor  of  the 
place  to  get  him  to  act  in  settling  the  failure  and 
putting  the  assets  at  the  disposal  of  the  creditors. 
The  law  means  that  the  creditors,  as  long  as  this 
drama  lasts,  support  the  insolvent  and  his  family. 


396  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

Pillerault  gave  the  commissary-judge  to  understand 
that  he  would  provide  for  the  wants  of  his  niece  and 
nephew. 

Everything  had  been  arranged  by  Du  Tillet  to 
make  the  failure  a  constant  agony  to  his  old  em- 
ployer. This  is  how:  Time  is  so  valuable  in 
Paris  that  generally,  in  failures,  of  two  assignees, 
only  one  is  engaged  in  the  affair.  The  other  is  a 
matter  of  form  :  he  approves,  like  the  second  notary 
in  notarial  acts.  The  acting  assignee  depends  rather 
frequently  on  the  proctor.  By  this  means,  in  Paris, 
failures  of  the  first  kind  are  attended  to  in  such  a 
summary  way  that,  in  the  delays  desired  by  the 
law,  everything  is  rushed,  tied  up,  served,  arranged! 
In  a  hundred  days  the  commissary-judge  may  utter 
the  atrocious  expression  of  a  minister:  "Order 
reigns  at  Warsaw."  Du  Tillet  desired  the  perfum- 
er's commercial  death.  And  so  the  names  of  the 
assignees,  appointed  by  Du  Tillet's  influence,  were 
significant  to  Pillerault.  Monsieur  Bidault,  called 
Gigonnet,  the  chief  creditor,  was  not  to  take  any 
part  in  it  at  all.  Molineux,  the  crotchety  little  old 
man,  who  was  losing  nothing,  was  to  concern  him- 
self with  everything.  Du  Tillet  had  thrown  to  this 
little  jackal  that  noble  commercial  corpse  to  torture 
while  devouring  it.  After  the  meeting  at  which 
the  creditors  named  the  assignees,  little  Molineux 
returned  to  his  lodgings,  honored,  he  said,  with  the 
suffrages  of  his  fellow-citizens;  happy  to  rule  Birot- 
teau  as  a  child  having  an  insect  to  tease.  The 
landlord,  astride  on  the  law,  entreated  Du  Tillet  to 


IN  MISFORTUNE  397 

aid  him  with  his  lights,  and  he  bought  a  copy  of  the 
Commercial  Code.  Fortunately,  Joseph  Lebas, 
warned  by  Pillerault,  had  first  got  the  president  to 
select  a  wise  and  well-disposed  commissary-judge. 
Gobenheim-Keller,  whom  Du  Tillet  had  hoped  to 
have,  found  himself  replaced  by  Monsieur  Camusot, 
substitute  judge,  the  rich  Liberal  silk-merchant, 
owner  of  the  house  in  which  Pillerault  lived,  and 
said  to  be  an  honorable  man. 

One  of  the  most  horrible  scenes  in  Cesar's  life 
was  his  forced  conference  with  little  Molineux,  that 
being  whom  he  regarded  as  so  much  of  a  nullity, 
and  who,  by  a  fiction  of  the  law,  had  become  Cesar 
Birotteau.  He  had  to  go,  accompanied  by  his  uncle, 
to  the  Cour  Batave,  to  ascend  the  six  flights  and 
again  enter  that  old  man's  very  mean  tenement,  the 
home  of  his  tutor,  his  quasi-judge,  the  representative 
of  the  mass  of  his  creditors. 

"What  ails  you?"  asked  Pillerault  of  Cesar,  as  he 
heard  an  exclamation. 

"Ah!  uncle,  you  do  not  know  what  a  man  that 
Molineux  is!" 

"For  the  last  fifteen  years  I  have  seen  him  from 
time  to  time  at  the  Cafe  David,  where  he  plays 
dominoes  in  the  evening:  and  so  I  have  come  with 
you." 

Monsieur  Molineux  was  exceedingly  polite  to  Pil- 
lerault and  disdainfully  condescending  to  his  insol- 
vent. The  little  old  man  had  studied  his  conduct, 
thought  out  the  shades  of  his  bearing,  and  prepared 
his  ideas. 


398  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

"What  information  do  you  want?"  Pillerault 
asked.    "  There  is  no  dispute  as  regards  the  claims. " 

"Oh!"  said  little  Molineux,  "the  claims  are  all 
right,  everything  is  verified.  The  creditors  are 
bona  fide.  But  the  law,  sir,  the  law !  The  insol- 
vent's expenses  are  out  of  proportion  with  his  for- 
tune.— It  is  plain  that  the  ball—" 

"Which  you  attended,"  said  Pillerault,  interrupt- 
ing him. 

"—Cost  nearly  sixty  thousand  francs,  or  that  this 
sum  was  expended  on  that  occasion,  the  insolvent's 
assets  did  not  then  reach  more  than  a  hundred  and 
some  thousand  francs. — There  is  reason  for  handing 
the  insolvent  over  to  the  extraordinary  judge,  on  the 
charge  of  simple  bankruptcy." 

"Is  that  your  opinion?"  Pillerault  asked,  as  he 
saw  the  dejection  into  which  this  statement  had 
cast  Birotteau. 

"1  make  a  distinction,  sir;  this  man  Birotteau 
was  a  municipal  officer — " 

"You  have  not  brought  us  here,  apparently,  to 
explain  to  us  that  we  are  going  to  be  dragged  into  the 
police  court?"  said  Pillerault.  "The  whole  Cafe 
David  would  laugh  this  evening  at  your  conduct." 

The  opinion  of  the  Cafe  David  seemed  to  irritate 
the  little  old  man  very  much,  and  he  looked  at  Pil- 
lerault as  if  scared.  The  receiver  counted  on  seeing 
Birotteau  alone;  he  had  resolved  to  pose  as  sover- 
eign arbiter,  as  a  Jupiter.  He  counted  on  frighten- 
ing Birotteau  by  the  thundering  requisition  prepared, 
on  brandishing  the  police-court  axe  over  his  head, 


IN   MISFORTUNE  399 

on  playing  on  his  fears,  his  terrors;  then  on  calm- 
ing down  while  letting  himself  seem  merciful,  and 
on  making  his  victim  an  ever-grateful  soul.  Instead 
of  his  insect,  he  met  the  old  commercial  sphinx. 

"Sir,"  he  said  to  him,  "it  is  not  a  laughing 
matter." 

"Excuse  me,"  Pillerault  replied.  "You  are  con- 
sulting rather  too  much  with  Monsieur  Claparon ; 
you  are  abandoning  the  interests  of  the  others  in 
order  to  get  a  decision  that  will  make  you  privileged 
in  regard  to  your  claims.  Now,  1  can  intervene  as 
a  creditor.     The  commissary-judge  is  there." 

"Sir,"  said  Molineux,  "I  am  incorruptible." 

"I  know  it,"  said  Pillerault;  "you  have,  as  the 
saying  is,  withdrawn  your  stake  from  the  game. 
You  are  shrewd.  You  have  acted  in  that  as  with 
your  tenant — " 

"Oh!  sir,"  said  the  receiver,  again  becoming  a 
landlord,  as  the  cat  metamorphosed  into  a  woman 
runs  after  a  mouse,  "my  affair  of  the  Rue  Montor- 
gueil  has  not  been  passed  upon.  There  has  hap- 
pened what  is  called  an  incident.  The  tenant  is 
chief  tenant.  This  intriguer  now  pretends  that, 
having  paid  a  year  in  advance,  and  not  having  more 
than  a  year  to — " 

Here  Pillerault  cast  at  Cesar  a  glance  that  meant 
for  him  to  pay  the  closest  attention. 

" — And  the  year  being  paid,  he  can  strip  the 
place.  A  fresh  lawsuit.  Indeed,  I  ought  to  keep 
my  securities  until  full  payment  is  made;  he  may 
owe  me  for  repairs." 


400  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

"But,"  said  Pillerault,  "the  law  gives  you  the 
furniture  as  security  for  rent  only." 

"And  collaterals!"  said  Molineux,  attacked  in 
his  centre.  "The  article  of  the  Code  is  interpreted 
by  the  decisions  rendered  on  the  subject.  An 
amendment,  however,  should  be  made  by  the  Legis- 
lature. I  am  at  this  moment  working  out  a  memoir 
to  His  Highness  the  Custodian  of  the  Seals  on  this 
gap  in  legislation.  It  would  be  worthy  of  the 
Government  to  concern  itself  with  the  interests  of 
property.  Everything  is  in  that  for  the  state;  we 
are  the  backbone  of  taxation." 

"You  are  quite  capable  of  enlightening  the  Gov- 
ernment," said  Pillerault,  "but  in  what  respect  can 
we  enlighten  you,  yes,  we,  in  relation  to  our 
affairs?" 

"I  want  to  know,"  said  Molineux  with  authorita- 
tive emphasis,  "whether  Monsieur  Birotteau  has 
received  money  from  Monsieur  Popinot. " 

"No,  sir,"  said  Birotteau. 

A  discussion  followed  on  Birotteau's  interest  in 
the  Popinot  house,  the  result  of  which  was  that 
Popinot  had  the  right  to  be  paid  in  full  for  his 
advances,  without  becoming  a  party  to  the  insolv- 
ency, for  the  half  of  the  establishment's  expenses 
due  by  Birotteau.  Receiver  Molineux,  managed  by 
Pillerault,  came  back  gradually  to  mild  forms  that 
proved  how  much  weight  he  attached  to  the  opinion 
of  the  regular  customers  at  the  Cafe  David.  He  at 
last  gave  consolation  to  Birotteau,  and  asked  him, 
as  well  as  Pillerault,  to  share  his  modest  dinner.    If 


IN  MISFORTUNE  401 

the  ex-perfumer  had  come  alone,  he  would  perhaps 
have  irritated  Molineux,  and  the  matter  would  have 
been  aggravated.  On  this  occasion,  as  well  as  on 
some  others,  old  Pillerault  was  a  guardian  angel. 

It  is  a  horrible  punishment  that  the  commercial 
law  imposes  on  insolvents;  they  must  appear  in 
person,  between  their  provisory  assignees  and  their 
commissary-judge,  at  the  meeting  at  which  their 
creditors  decide  their  fate.  To  a  man  who  puts 
himself  above  everything,  as  to  the  merchant  who 
is  seeking  revenge,  this  sad  ceremony  is  by  no 
means  to  be  dreaded ;  but  to  a  man  like  Cesar  Birot- 
teau  this  scene  is  a  punishment  that  has  no  analogy 
except  in  the  last  day  of  one  condemned  to  death. 
Pillerault  did  everything  in  his  power  to  make  this 
dreadful  day  endurable  to  his  nephew. 

This  was  Molineux's  procedure,  agreed  to  by  the 
insolvent.  The  suit  regarding  the  land  situated  in 
the  Rue  du  Faubourg  du  Temple  was  won  in  the 
royal  court.  The  assignees  decided  to  sell  the  prop- 
erty, and  Cesar  made  no  opposition  to  this.  Du 
Tillet,  informed  of  the  Government's  intentions  con- 
cerning a  canal  that  was  to  join  Saint-Denis  with 
the  upper  Seine,  by  passing  through  the  Faubourg 
du  Temple,  bought  Birotteau's  land  for  the  sum  of 
seventy  thousand  francs.  Cesar's  interest  in  the 
matter  of  the  Madeleine  land  was  abandoned  to  Mon- 
sieur Claparon,  on  condition  that  he,  on  his  part, 
would  give  up  all  claim  in  relation  to  the  half  due  by 
Birotteau  on  account  of  the  expenses  of  registering 
and  passing  on  the  contract,  the  charge  of  paying 
26 


402  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

the  price  of  the  land  by  handling,  in  the  failure,  the 
dividend  that  fell  to  the  sellers.  The  perfumer's 
interest  in  the  house  of  Popinot  and  Company  was 
sold  to  the  said  Popinot  for  the  sum  of  forty-eight 
thousand  francs.  The  business  of  La  Reine  des 
Roses  was  bought  by  C^lestin  Crevel  for  fifty-seven 
thousand  francs,  with  right  to  the  lease,  merchan- 
dise, furniture,  the  Sultana  Paste  and  Carminative 
Water  patents,  and  the  renting  for  twelve  years  of 
the  factory,  the  utensils  of  which  were  also  sold  to 
him.  The  assets  realized  a  hundred  and  eighty-five 
thousand  francs,  to  which  the  assignees  added 
seventy  thousand  francs  resulting  from  Birotteau's 
rights  in  the  unfortunate  Roguin's  settlement  Thus 
the  total  reached  two  hundred  and  fifty-five  thousand 
francs.  The  liabilities  amounted  to  four  hundred  and 
forty  thousand,  so  that  there  was  more  than  fifty  per 
cent.  Failure  is  like  a  chemical  operation,  which  the 
shrewd  merchant  tries  to  get  out  of  fat.  Birotteau, 
entirely  distilled  in  this  retort,  produced  a  result 
that  made  Du  Tillet  furious.  Du  Tillet  believed  in 
a  dishonest  insolvency;  he  saw  an  honest  one.  Far 
from  being  pleased  with  his  gain,  for  he  was  going 
to  have  the  Madeleine  land  without  opening  his 
purse,  he  would  have  wished  the  poor  retailer  dis- 
honored, discredited,  vilified.  The  creditors,  at  the 
general  meeting,  were  no  doubt  going  to  carry  the 
perfumer  in  triumph.  In  proportion  as  Birotteau's 
courage  returned  to  him,  his  uncle,  like  a  wise 
physician,  graduated  the  doses  for  him  by  initiating 
him  into  the  operations  of  the   insolvency.    These 


IN  MISFORTUNE  403 

violent  measures  were  so  many  blows.  A  merchant 
does  not  learn  without  grief  of  the  depreciation  of 
the  things  that  represent  to  him  so  much  money,  so 
much  care.  The  news  that  his  uncle  gave  him  pet- 
rified him. 

"Fifty-seven  thousand  francs  for  La  Reine  des 
Roses!  but  the  shop  cost  ten  thousand  francs;  but 
the  apartments  cost  forty  thousand  francs;  but  the 
fitting  up  of  the  factory,  the  utensils,  the  moulds, 
the  cauldrons,  cost  thirty  thousand  francs ;  but,  allow- 
ing a  rebate  of  fifty  per  cent,  there  is  ten  thousand 
francs'  worth  in  my  shop;  but  the  paste  and  the 
water  are  a  property  worth  a  farm !" 

These  Jeremiads  from  poor  ruined  Cesar  scarcely 
frightened  Pillerault  The  old  dealer  listened  to 
them  as  a  horse  receives  a  drenching  at  a  gate,  but 
he  was  alarmed  at  the  perfumer's  stolid  silence 
at  the  mention  of  the  meeting.  To  one  who  under- 
stands the  vanities  and  weaknesses  that  in  each 
social  sphere  attack  man,  was  it  not  a  horrible 
punishment  for  this  poor  man  to  return  as  an  in- 
solvent to  the  commercial  court-house  in  which  he 
had  sat  as  a  judge  ?  to  go  to  receive  affronts  where 
he  had  gone  so  often  to  be  thanked  for  the  services 
that  he  had  rendered,  he,  Birotteau,  whose  inflexi- 
ble opinions  in  regard  to  insolvents  were  known  to 
the  whole  trade  of  Paris;  he  who  had  said:  "One 
is  still  an  honest  man  when  he  stops  payment,  but 
one  leaves  a  meeting  of  creditors  as  a  cheat.?"  His 
uncle  studied  the  hours  favorable  for  familiarizing 
him  with  the  idea  of  appearing  before  his  assembled 


404  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

creditors,  as  the  law  required.  This  obligation  was 
killing  Birotteau.  His  mute  resignation  made  a 
deep  impression  on  Pillerault,  who  often,  in  the 
night,  heard  him  through  the  partition  exclaiming: 
"Never!  never!  I  shall  be  dead  before  that." 
Pillerault,  that  man  so  strong  by  the  simplicity 
of  his  life,  understood  the  weakness.  He  resolved 
to  spare  Birotteau  the  anguish  to  which  he  might 
succumb  in  the  terrible  scene  of  his  appearance 
before  the  creditors,  an  inevitable  scene !  The  law 
on  this  point  is  strict,  formal,  exacting.  The  mer- 
chant who  refuses  to  appear  may,  from  this  single 
fact,  be  brought  into  the  police  court  on  the  charge 
of  simple  bankruptcy.  But  if  the  law  compels  the 
insolvent  to  present  himself,  it  has  not  the  power 
to  make  the  creditor  come  there.  A  meeting  of 
creditors  is  an  important  ceremony  only  in  certain 
cases:  for  example,  if  there  be  occasion  to  dispos- 
sess a  cheat  and  to  make  a  deed  of  agreement,  if 
there  be  disagreement  between  favored  and  injured 
creditors,  if  the  settlement  is  ultra-dishonest  and 
the  insolvent  needs  a  doubtful  majority.  But  in 
the  case  of  a  failure  in  which  everything  is  realized 
on,  as  well  as  in  the  case  of  a  failure  in  which  the 
cheat  has  arranged  everything,  the  meeting  is  a  for- 
mality. Pillerault  went  to  entreat  each  creditor, 
one  after  the  other,  to  sign  a  power  of  attorney  for 
his  proctor.  Each  creditor,  Du  Tillet  excepted,  was 
sincerely  sorry  for  Cesar  after  having  broken  him 
down.  Each  one  knew  how  the  perfumer  had  con- 
ducted himself,  how  correct  his  books  were,  how 


IN  MISFORTUNE  405 

straight  were  his  affairs.  All  the  creditors  were 
satisfied  at  not  seeing  among  them  any  sham 
creditor.  Molineux,  at  first  receiver,  then  assignee, 
had  found  in  Cesar's  house  all  that  the  poor  man 
possessed,  even  the  engraving  of  Hero  and  Leander 
given  by  Popinot,  his  personal  jewelry,  his  pin, 
his  gold  buckles,  his  two  watches,  that  an  honest 
man  would  have  carried  off  without  thinking  that 
he  lacked  in  honesty.  Constance  had  left  her 
modest  jewel-case.  This  touching  obedience  to 
the  law  struck  the  trade  keenly.  Birotteau's  ene- 
mies represented  these  circumstances  as  signs  of 
stupidity;  but  sensible  folk  saw  them  in  their  true 
light,  as  a  magnificent  excess  of  probity.  Two 
months  later,  opinion  at  the  Bourse  changed.  The 
most  indifferent  people  acknowledged  that  this 
failure  was  one  of  the  rarest  curiosities  of  trade  that 
had  been  seen  on  Change.  And  so  the  creditors, 
knowing  that  they  were  going  to  realize  about  sixty 
per  cent,  did  all  that  Pillerault  asked  of  them. 
Proctors  are  very  few  in  number;  it  happened,  then, 
that  several  creditors  had  the  same  proxy.  Piller- 
ault succeeded  in  reducing  this  formidable  meeting 
to  three  proctors,  himself,  Ragon,  the  two  assignees 
and  the  commissary-judge. 

On  the  morning  of  that  solemn  day,  Pillerault  said 
to  his  nephew: 

"Cesar,  you  can  go  without  fear  to  your  meeting 
to-day;  you  will  find  no  one  there." 

Monsieur  Ragon  wanted  to  accompany  his  debtor. 
When  the  former  owner  of  La  Reine  des  Roses  made 


406  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

his  dry  little  voice  heard,  his  ex-successor  grew 
pale;  but  the  good  little  old  man  opened  his  arms 
to  him,  Birotteau  rushed  into  them  as  a  child  into 
its  father's  arms,  and  both  perfumers  bedewed  each 
other  with  their  tears.  The  insolvent  regained 
courage  on  seeing  so  much  indulgence,  and  went  in 
a  hack  with  his  uncle.  Precisely  at  half-past  ten 
o'clock  all  three  arrived  at  the  Saint-Merri  cloister, 
where  at  that  time  the  Tribunal  of  Commerce  sat. 
At  that  hour  there  was  no  one  in  the  insolvency 
hall.  The  hour  and  the  day  had  been  chosen  by 
agreement  with  the  assignees  and  the  commissary- 
judge.  The  proctors  were  there  on  account  of  their 
clients:  thus  there  was  nothing  to  intimidate  Cesar 
Birotteau.  Yet  the  poor  man  did  not  go  into  Mon- 
sieur Camusot's  court-room,  which  by  chance  had 
been  his  own,  without  feeling  a  deep  emotion,  and 
he  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  entering  the  insolv- 
ency hall. 

"It  is  cold,"  said  Monsieur  Camusot  to  Birot- 
teau. "These  gentlemen  will  not  be  sorry  for  re- 
maining here  instead  of  going  to  freeze  us  in  the 
hall — he  avoided  saying  insolvents — .  Be  seated, 
gentlemen." 

Each  took  a  seat,  and  the  judge  gave  his  arm-chair 
to  Birotteau,  who  was  confused.  The  proctors  and 
the  assignees  signed. 

"By  reason  of  the  abandonment  of  your  assets," 
said  Camusot  to  Birotteau,  "your  creditors  unani- 
mously release  you  from  further  liability;  your 
settlement  is  couched  in  terms  that  may  assuage 


IN  MISFORTUNE  407 

your  grief;  your  proctor  will  have  it  approved 
promptly:  so  you  are  free.  All  the  judges  of  the 
court,  dear  Monsieur  Birotteau,"  said  Camusot  as 
he  took  hold  of  both  his  hands,  "are  moved  at  your 
position,  without  being  surprised  at  your  courage, 
and  there  is  no  one  who  has  not  done  justice  to  your 
probity.  In  misfortune  you  have  been  worthy  of 
what  you  were  here.  Twenty  years  have  passed 
since  I  have  been  in  trade,  and  this  is  the  second 
time  that  I  have  seen  a  merchant  who  had  fallen, 
winning  once  more  the  public  esteem." 

Birotteau  took  the  judge's  hands  and  pressed 
them,  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  Camusot  asked  him 
what  he  counted  on  doing.  Birotteau  replied  that  he 
was  going  to  work  to  pay  his  creditors  in  full. 

"If  in  carrying  out  this  noble  task,  you  need  a  few 
thousand  francs,  you  can  always  get  them  from  me, " 
said  Camusot.  "1  would  give  them  with  great  pleas- 
ure to  be  witness  of  a  fact  rather  rare  in  Paris." 

Pillerault,  Ragon  and  Birotteau  retired. 

"Well,  it  was  not  like  having  to  drink  the  sea 
dry,"  said  Pillerault  to  him  at  the  court-room  door. 

"I  am  grateful  for  your  services,  uncle,"  said 
the  poor  man,  tenderly. 

"You  are  restored;  we  are  but  two  steps  from 
Rue  des  Cinq-Diamants;  come  and  see  my 
nephew,"  Ragon  said  to  him. 

"That  was  a  cruel  sensation  through  which  Birot- 
teau had  to  pass  on  seeing  Constance  sitting  in  a 
little  office  in  the  low  and  dark  entresol  situated 
over  the  shop,  where  dominated  a  sign-board  rising 


408  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

one-third  the  height  of  her  window,  intercepting  the 
light,  and  on  which  was  written:  A.  POPINOT. 

"There  is  one  of  Alexander's  lieutenants,"  Birot- 
teau  said,  with  the  pleasantness  of  misfortune,  as  he 
pointed  to  the  sign. 

That  forced  pleasantness,  in  which  was  unaffect- 
edly shown  the  inextinguishable  feeling  of  the 
superiority  that  Birotteau  thought  he  possessed, 
produced,  as  it  were,  a  shiver  in  Ragon,  in  spite  of 
his  seventy  years.  Cesar  saw  his  wife  bringing 
down  to  Popinot  some  letters  to  sign,  and  he  could 
not  restrain  his  tears  nor  keep  his  countenance  from 
turning  pale. 

"Good-day,  my  friend,"  she  said  to  him,  with  a 
laughing  air. 

"1  need  not  ask  you  if  you  are  happy  here  ?"  said 
Cesar,  as  he  looked  at  Popinot. 

"As  with  my  son,"  she  replied  in  a  tender  tone 
that  struck  the  ex-merchant 

Birotteau  took  hold  of  Popinot,  and  embraced  him, 
saying: 

"I  have  just  lost  forever  the  right  of  calling  him 
my  son." 

"Let  us  hope,"  said  Popinot.  "  Your  oil  is  going, 
thanks  to  my  efforts  in  the  newspapers,  to  those  of 
Gaudissart,  who  has  done  the  whole  of  France,  who 
has  inundated  it  with  placards  and  prospectuses  and 
who  is  now  having  printed  at  Strasbourg  prospec- 
tuses in  German,  and  is  going  to  descend  like  an 
invasion  on  Germany.  We  have  succeeded  in 
placing  three  thousand  gross." 


IN  MISFORTUNE  409 

"Three  thousand  gross,"  said  Cesar. 

"And  I  have  bought,  in  the  Faubourg  Saint-Mar- 
ceau,  a  tract  of  land,  and  at  a  not  high  figure,  either, 
where  a  factory  is  being  built.  I  will  hold  on  to 
that  of  the  Faubourg  du  Temple." 

"Wife,"  said  Birotteau,  in  Constance's  ear,  "with 
a  little  assistance  we  might  get  out  of  it." 

From  that  fatal  day  Cesar,  wife  and  daughter 
understood  one  another.  The  poor  employe 
wanted  to  attain  a  result  if  not  impossible,  at  least 
gigantic:  the  entire  payment  of  his  debts!  These 
three  beings,  united  by  the  bonds  of  ferocious 
honesty,  became  penurious  and  refused  themselves 
everything:  a  farthing  seemed  to  them  sacred.  In 
a  studied  way,  Cesarine  had  for  her  trade  the  de- 
votedness  of  a  young  girl.  She  spent  the  nights 
devising  how  to  increase  the  prosperity  of  the  house, 
invented  designs  in  stuffs,  and  displayed  an  innate 
commercial  genius.  Her  employers  were  obliged  to 
moderate  her  ardor  for  work,  they  rewarded  her  with 
presents;  but  she  refused  the  adornments  and  jewels 
that  her  employers  offered  to  her.  Money !  was  her 
cry.  Each  month  she  brought  her  wages,  her  little 
savings,  to  her  Uncle  Pillerault.  Cesar  did  the 
same,  and  so  did  Madame  Birotteau.  All  three 
knowing  themselves  not  to  be  shrewd,  each  of  them 
wished  to  place  on  him  the  responsibility  of  watch- 
ing the  money  market,  so  they  gave  over  to  Pillerault 
the  supreme  direction  of  the  investing  of  their  sav- 
ings. Having  become  a  man  of  business  once  more, 
the  uncle  followed  the  money  market  in  the  Bourse 


4IO  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

reports.  It  was  learned  later  on  that  he  had  been 
aided  in  this  work  by  Jules  Desmarets  and  Joseph 
Lebas,  both  of  them  eager  to  tell  him  of  safe  invest- 
ments. 

The  former  perfumer,  who  lived  with  his  uncle, 
did  not  dare  to  question  him  on  the  use  made  of  the 
amounts  acquired  by  his  labors  and  by  those  of  his 
daughter  and  wife.  He  went,  with  bowed  head, 
through  the  streets,  concealing  from  the  gaze  of  all 
his  downcast,  disturbed  and  stolid  countenance. 
Cesar  reproached  himself  for  wearing  fine  clothes. 

"At  least,"  he  said,  with  an  angelic  look  at  his 
uncle,  "I  do  not  eat  my  creditors'  bread.  Your 
bread  seems  to  me  sweet,  though  given  from  the 
pity  that  I  inspire  you  with,  knowing  that,  owing 
to  this  holy  charity,  I  steal  nothing  from  my 
salary." 

The  merchants  who  met  the  employe  did  not  find 
in  him  any  trace  of  the  perfumer.  The  indifferent 
conceived  a  great  idea  of  men  who  had  failed  at  the 
sight  of  this  man  on  whose  countenance  the  blackest 
sorrow  had  set  the  seal  of  its  mourning,  who  showed 
himself  overthrown  by  what  had  never  made  its 
appearance  in  his  house,  thought!  He  is  not  lost 
who  wills.  Thoughtless  people,  without  con- 
science, to  whom  everything  is  indifferent,  can 
never  present  the  spectacle  of  a  disaster.  Religion 
alone  impresses  a  special  seal  on  fallen  beings :  they 
believe  in  a  future,  in  a  Providence;  there  is  in 
them  a  certain  effulgence  that  marks  them,  an  ap- 
pearance of  holy  resignation  mingled  with  hope  that 


IN  MISFORTUNE  41 1 

causes  a  sort  of  tenderness;  they  know  all  that  they 
have  lost  as  an  exiled  angel  weeping  at  the  gate  of 
Heaven.  Insolvents  cannot  present  themselves  at 
the  Bourse.  Cesar,  driven  from  the  domain  of  prob- 
ity, was  an  angel  sighing  tor  pardon. 


For  fourteen  months,  full  of  the  religious  thoughts 
with  which  his  fall  had  inspired  him,  Birotteau  re- 
fused every  pleasure.  Though  sure  of  the  friend- 
ship of  the  Ragons,  it  was  impossible  to  prevail 
upon  him  to  go  to  dine  with  them,  or  with  the 
Lebases,  or  with  the  Matifats,  or  with  the  Protezes 
or  with  the  Chiffrevilles,  or  even  with  Monsieur 
Vauquelin,  all  of  whom  showed  their  eagerness  to 
honor  in  Cesar  a  superior  virtue.  Cesar  preferred 
to  be  alone  in  his  room  to  meeting  the  look  of  a 
creditor.  The  most  cordial  advances  from  his 
friends  reminded  him  bitterly  of  his  position.  Con- 
stance and  Cesarine  did  not,  then,  go  anywhere. 
On  Sundays  and  holidays,  the  only  days  when  they 
were  free,  these  two  women  came,  at  the  hour  for 
mass,  to  take  Cesar,  and  kept  him  company  at 
Pillerault's  after  having  performed  their  religious 
duties.  Pillerault  invited  the  Abbe  Loraux,  whose 
words  supported  Cesar  in  his  life  of  trial,  and  they 
then  remained  as  in  family  life.  The  old  iron  and 
copper-ware  merchant  was  made  up  of  too  honest  a 
fibre  of  probity  to  disapprove  of  Cesar's  sense  of 
delicacy.  And  so  he  had  thought  of  increasing  the 
number  of  persons  among  whom  the  insolvent  could 
show  his  blanched  face  and  look  a  man  straight  in 
the  eye. 

In  the  month  of  May,  1821,  this  family,  in  the 

(413) 


414  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

grasp  of  adversity,  was  rewarded  for  its  efforts  by 
the  first  feast  that  the  arbiter  of  its  destinies  pre- 
pared for  it  The  last  Sunday  of  this  month  was 
the  anniversary  of  the  consent  given  by  Constance 
to  her  marriage  with  Cesar.  Pillerault  had  rented, 
along  with  the  Ragons,  a  small  country  house  at 
Sceaux,  and  the  former  iron  and  copper-ware  dealer 
wanted  to  have  a  joyous  house-warming. 

"Cesar,"  said  Pillerault  to  his  nephew  on  Satur- 
day evening,  "to-morrow  we  are  going  to  the  coun- 
try, and  you  will  come  along." 

Cesar,  who  wrote  a  superb  hand,  spent  the  even- 
ing in  copying  for  Derville  and  other  lawyers. 
Now,  on  Sunday,  authorized  by  the  pastor's  per- 
mission, he  worked  like  a  negro. 

"No,"  he  answered,  "Monsieur  Derville  is  wait- 
ing for  a  guardian's  account." 

"Your  wife  and  daughter  clearly  deserve  a 
reward.  You  will  find  only  our  friends:  the  Abbe 
Loraux,  the  Ragons,  Popinot  and  his  uncle.  Be- 
sides, 1  want  it." 

Cesar  and  his  wife,  caught  in  the  whirlwind  of 
business,  had  never  returned  to  Sceaux,  though  from 
time  to  time  both  of  them  wished  to  go  back  there, 
so  as  to  see  the  tree  under  which  the  chief  clerk  of 
La  Reine  des  Roses  had  almost  fainted.  During 
the  journey  that  Cesar  made  in  a  hack  with  his 
wife  and  daughter,  and  Popinot,  who  drove  them, 
Constance  cast  on  her  husband  knowing  looks  with- 
out being  able  to  bring  a  smile  to  his  lips.  She 
whispered  some  words  in  his  ear,  and  his  only  reply 


IN  MISFORTUNE  415 

was  to  shake  his  head.  The  sweet  expressions  of 
that  tenderness,  unchangeable  but  forced,  instead  of 
lighting  up  Cesar's  countenance,  made  it  more 
sombre  and  brought  some  repressed  tears  to  his 
eyes.  The  poor  man  had  made  this  journey 
twenty  years  before,  rich,  young,  full  of  hope,  in 
love  with  a  young  girl  as  pretty  as  now  was 
Cesarine;  he  then  dreamt  of  happiness,  and  to-day 
saw  in  the  bottom  of  the  coach  his  noble  child  pale 
from  sitting  up  at  night,  his  brave  wife  no  longer 
having  but  the  beauty  of  cities  over  which  have 
passed  the  lava  streams  of  a  volcano.  Love  alone 
had  remained!  Cesar's  attitude  stifled  joy  in  his 
daughter's  heart  and  in  that  of  Anselme,  who  repre- 
sented to  him  the  charming  scene  of  that  day  of  old. 

"Be  happy,  my  children,  you  have  the  right  to 
be,"  that  poor  father  said  to  them  in  a  heart-rending 
tone.  "You  can  love  each  other  without  any  after- 
thought," he  added. 

Birotteau,  while  speaking  these  last  words,  had 
taken  hold  of  his  wife's  hands  and  kissed  them  with 
a  holy  and  admiring  affection  that  touched  Con- 
stance's heart  more  than  the  liveliest  pleasantry. 
When  they  reached  the  house,  at  which  they  were 
awaited  by  Pillerault,  the  Ragons,  the  Abbe  Loraux 
and  Judge  Popinot,  these  five  select  personages  had 
a  bearing,  looks  and  words  that  put  Cesar  at  his 
ease,  for  all  were  moved  at  seeing  that  man  ever  on 
the  morrow  of  his  misfortune. 

"Go  and  take  a  walk  in  the  Bois  d'Aulnay," 
said  Uncle  Pillerault,  as  he  placed  Cesar's  hand  in 


4l6  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

that  of  Constance,    "go  there  with  Anselme  and 
Cesarine;  you  will  return  at  four  o'clock." 

"Poor  creatures,  we  shall  make  them  uneasy," 
said  Madame  Ragon,  moved  to  tenderness  by  her 
debtor's  genuine  sorrow;  "he  will  be  quite  jocund 
in  a  short  time." 

"It  is  repentance  without  having  sinned,"  said 
the  Abbe  Loraux. 

"He  can  become  great  only  through  misfortune," 
said  the  judge. 

To  forget  is  the  great  secret  of  strong  and  creative 
lives;  to  forget  after  the  manner  of  nature,  which 
recognizes  no  past,  which  begins  at  every  moment 
the  mysteries  of  its  indefatigable  productiveness. 
Weak  lives,  as  was  that  of  Birotteau,  live  in  sor- 
rows, instead  of  changing  them  into  apothegms  of 
experience;  they  become  saturated  with  them,  and 
use  themselves  up  by  looking  back  everyday  at  the 
misfortunes  that  have  taken  place.  When  the  two 
couples  had  reached  the  path  that  leads  to  the 
Bois  d'Aulnay,  placed  like  a  crown  on  one  of  the 
prettiest  hillsides  in  the  neighborhood  of  Paris,  and 
the  Vallee-aux-Loups  was  seen  in  all  its  attractive- 
ness, the  fineness  of  the  weather,  the  beauty  of  the 
landscape,  the  first  verdure  and  the  sweet  memories 
of  the  most  charming  day  of  his  youth  distended  the 
sad  chords  of  Cesar's  soul :  he  pressed  his  wife's 
arm  against  his  palpitating  heart,  his  eye  was  no 
longer  glassy,  the  light  of  pleasure  shone  in  it. 

"At  last,"  said  Constance  to  her  husband,  "I  see 
you  again,  my  poor  Cesar !  It  seems  to  me  that  we  are 


IN  MISFORTUNE  417 

in  good  enough  shape  to  allow  ourselves  a  little 
pleasure  from  time  to  time." 

"And  can  I  do  so?"  said  the  poor  man.  "Ah! 
Constance,  your  affection  is  the  only  possession 
I  have  left.  Yes,  1  have  lost  even  the  confidence 
that  I  had  in  myself.  I  have  no  more  strength;  my 
only  desire  is  to  live  long  enough  for  me  to  die 
square  with  the  world.  You,  dear  wife,  you  who 
are  my  wisdom  and  my  prudence,  you  who  saw 
clearly,  you  who  are  irreproachable,  you  can  be 
pleasant;  I  only,  of  the  three  of  us,  am  guilty. 
Eighteen  months  ago,  in  the  midst  of  that  fatal 
feast,  I  saw  my  Constance,  the  only  woman  whom 
I  have  loved,  more  beautiful  perhaps  than  was  the 
young  person  with  whom  I  traversed  this  path 
twenty  years  ago,  as  our  children  now  traverse  it! 
—  In  twenty  months  I  have  scarred  that  beauty — 
my  pride,  my  allowable  and  lawful  pride.  1  love 
you  the  more  the  better  I  know  you — Oh!  dear,'^ 
he  said,  as  he  gave  to  this  word  an  emphasis  that 
touched  his  wife's  heart,  "I  would  rather  hear  you 
complain,  instead  of  seeing  you  caress  my  grief." 

"I  did  not  believe,"  she  said,  "that  after  twenty 
years  of  housekeeping  a  woman's  love  for  her  hus- 
band could  increase." 

This  expression  made  Cesar  for  a  moment  forget 
all  his  misfortunes,  for  he  had  so  much  heart  that 
this  word  was  a  fortune.  He  therefore  almost  joy- 
ously approached  tlieir  tree,  which  perchance  had 
not  been  blown  down.  The  husband  and  wife  sat 
down  there,  looking  at  Anselme  and  Cesarine,  who 
27 


4l8  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

were  turning  round  the  same  lawn  without  perceiv- 
ing it,  thinking  perhaps  that  they  were  going 
straight  ahead. 

"Mademoiselle,"  said  Anselme,  "do  you  think 
me  so  heartless  and  greedy  as  to  have  taken  advan- 
tage of  the  gaining  of  your  father's  share  in  the 
Cephalic  Oil}  I  am  lovingly  keeping  his  half  for 
him,  for  him  am  I  taking  care  of  it.  1  am  dis- 
counting with  his  interests;  if  there  are  doubtful 
notes,  I  take  them  on  my  responsibility.  We  can 
be  each  other's  only  on  the  morrow  of  your  father's 
being  himself  again,  and  I  am  hastening  that  day 
with  all  the  strength  that  love  gives." 

The  lover  had  been  very  careful  to  tell  this  secret 
to  his  mother-in-law.  With  the  most  innocent 
lovers,  there  is  always  the  desire  to  seem  great  in 
their  mistresses'  eyes. 

"And  will  it  be  soon.!"'  she  asked. 

"Soon,"  said  Popinot. 

This  answer  was  given  in  so  penetrating  a  tone 
that  the  chaste  and  pure  Cesarine  extended  her 
brow  to  dear  Anselme,  who  imprinted  an  eager  and 
respectful  kiss  upon  it,  so  much  nobility  was  there 
in  this  youth's  action. 

"Papa,  everything  is  going  on  well,"  she  said  to 
Cdsar,  in  a  delicate  way.  "Be  agreeable,  chat,  give 
up  your  sad  look." 

When  this  family,  so  united,  returned  to  Pille- 
rault's  house,  Cesar,  though  far  from  observant, 
noticed  in  the  Ragons  a  change  of  manner  that  be- 
spoke some  event.       The    welcome    extended    by 


IN  MISFORTUNE  419 

Madame  Ragon  was  particularly  gracious ;  her  look 
and  tone  told  Cesar:  "We  have  been  paid." 

At  dessert  the  Sceaux  notary  presented  himself, 
Uncle  Pillerault  made  him  sit  down  and  looked  at 
Birotteau,  who  began  to  suspect  a  surprise,  without 
being  able  to  imagine  its  extent. 

"Nephew,  for  the  past  eighteen  months  your 
wife's,  your  daughter's,  and  your  own  savings  have 
amounted  to  twenty  thousand  francs.  I  received 
thirty  thousand  francs  as  the  dividend  on  my 
claim;  we  have,  then,  fifty  thousand  francs,  to  give 
to  your  creditors.  Monsieur  Ragon  has  received 
thirty  thousand  francs  as  his  dividend,  the  Sceaux 
notary  brings  you  a  receipt  for  payment  in  full, 
including  interest,  made  to  your  friends.  The  bal- 
ance of  the  amount  is  at  Crottat's,  for  Lourdois,  old 
woman  Madou,  the  mason,  the  carpenter,  and  your 
more  needy  creditors.  As  for  next  year,  we  will 
see.     With  time  and  patience  one  does  wonders." 

Birotteau's  joy  is  not  to  be  described;  he  threw 
himself  weeping  into  his  uncle's  arms. 

"Let  him  wear  his  Cross  to-day,"  said  Ragon  to 
the  Abbe  Loraux. 

The  confessor  fastened  the  red  ribbon  in  the  but- 
tonhole of  the  employe,  who  looked  at  himself  in 
the  parTor  mirror  a  score  of  times  during  the  even- 
ing, showing  a  pleasure  at  which  people  who  think 
themselves  superior  would  have  laughed,  and  which 
comes  naturally  to  those  good  folk  of  the  middle 
class.  Next  day  Birotteau  betook  himself  to  Madame 
Madou's. 


420  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

"Oh!  it's  you,  good  man,"  she  said.  "I  didn't 
know  you,  you  have  turned  so  gray.  Yet  you  peo- 
ple don't  have  to  toil :  you  have  places.  But  I 
make  myself  as  sick  as  a  poodle  dog  turning  a 
crank,  who  deserves  baptism." 

"But,  madame— " 

"Eh!  I  mean  no  offence,"  she  said;  "you  have  a 
receipt." 

"1  have  come  to  tell  you  that  I  will  pay  you  at 
Master  Crottat's,  the  notary,  to-day,  the  balance 
of  your  claim  and  interest — " 

"Is  that  so?" 

"Be  at  his  place  at  half-past  eleven  o'clock — " 

"That  is  honor,  with  good  measure  and  the  four 
per  cent,"  she  said,  as  she  ingenuously  admired 
Birotteau.  "See  here,  my  dear  sir,  I  am  doing  a 
good  business  with  your  little  red-headed  chap;  he 
is  a  gentleman,  and  he  gives  me  a  big  profit  without 
dickering  as  to  the  price,  so  as  to  indemnify  me; 
well,  1  will  give  you  a  receipt;  keep  your  money, 
my  poor  old  man!  The  Madou  may  flare  up,  she 
is  a  scold,  but  she  has  that,"  she  said,  as  she  patted 
the  most  voluminous  cushions  of  live  flesh  that 
have  been  known  in  the  Market. 

"Never,"  said  Birotteau;  "  the  law  is  strict,  I 
want  to  pay  you  in  full." 

"Then  1  won't  do  much  praying,"  she  said. 
"And  to-morrow,  in  the  Market,  I'll  trumpet  your 
honor.     Ah!  it  is  a  rare  interlude!" 

The  good  man  went  through  the  same  scene  at 
the    house-painter's,    Crottat's   father-in-law,    but 


IN  MISFORTUNE  42 1 

with  variations.  It  was  raining.  Cesar  left  his 
umbrella  standing  in  a  corner  of  the  door-way. 
The  enriched  painter,  seeing  the  water  making  its 
way  into  the  fine  room  in  which  he  was  breakfast- 
ing with  his  wife,  was  not  in  the  most  amiable 
mood. 

"Well,  what  do  you  want,  my  poor  old  Birot- 
teau?"  he  said  in  a  harsh  tone  that  many  people 
assume  in  speaking  to  beggars  who  will  not  be  put 
off. 

"Sir,  your  son-in-law  has  not  told  you,  then? — " 

"What?"  Lourdois  interrupted,  impatiently, 
thinking  of  some  request. 

" — To  be  at  his  place  this  morning  at  half-past 
eleven  o'clock,  to  give  me  a  receipt  for  the  full  pay- 
ment of  your  claim  ?" 

"Ah!  that's  another  matter. — Be  seated,  then, 
there.  Monsieur  Birotteau,  and  eat  a  bite  with 
us—" 

"Give  us  the  pleasure  of  sharing  our  breakfast," 
said  Madame  Lourdois. 

"It's  all  right,  then  ?"  the  fat  Lourdois  asked  him. 

"No,  sir,  I  have  had  to  be  satisfied  with  a  meagre 
breakfast  every  day  at  my  office  in  order  to  get  some 
money  together;  but,  in  time,  I  hope  to  repair  the 
injury  done  to  my  neighbor." 

"Truly,"  said  the  painter,  as  he  gulped  down  a 
tart  loaded  with  p^te  de  foies  gras,  "you  are  a  man 
of  honor." 

"And  what  is  Madame  Birotteau  doing?"  Madame 
Lourdois  asked. 


422  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

"She  is  book-keeper  and  cashier  at  Monsieur 
Anselme  Popinot's. " 

"The  poor  creatures!"  said  Madame  Lourdois,  in 
a  low  voice,  to  her  husband. 

"If  you  need  me,  my  dear  Monsieur  Birotteau, 
come  and  see  me,"  said  Lourdois.  "i  might  be  able 
to  assist  you.—" 

"I  need  you  at  eleven  o'clock,  sir,"  said  Birot- 
teau, who  then  retired. 

This  first  result  gave  courage  to  the  insolvent, 
without  bringing  back  rest  to  him;  the  desire  of 
regaining  honor  troubled  his  life  out  of  all  measure; 
he  entirely  lost  the  freshness  that  had  adorned  his 
countenance,  his  eyes  were  sunken  and  his  cheeks 
hollow.  When  old  acquaintances  met  Cesar  in 
the  morning  at  eight  o'clock,  going  to  Rue  de 
I'Oratoire,  or  returning  at  four  in  the  afternoon, 
wrapped  in  the  overcoat  that  he  had  at  the  time  of 
his  fall,  and  which  he  took  care  of  as  a  poor  sub- 
lieutenant takes  care  of  his  uniform,  his  hair  entirely 
white,  pale,  timid,  some  attracted  his  attention  in 
spite  of  himself,  for  his  eye  was  alert;  he  crept 
along  the  walls  after  the  manner  of  thieves. 

"Your  conduct  is  known,  my  friend,"  someone 
would  say  to  him.  "Everyone  regrets  the  severity 
with  which  you  are  treating  yourself,  as  well  as 
your  daughter  and  your  wife." 

"Take  a  little  more  time,"  said  others;  "the 
money  plague  is  not  mortal." 

"No,  but  rather  the  plague  of  the  soul,"  poor, 
weakened  Cesar  replied  one  day  to  Matifat. 


IN  MISFORTUNE  423 

In  the  beginning  of  the  year  1823  the  Saint-Mar- 
tin Canal  was  decided  on.  The  land  situated  in  the 
Faubourg  du  Temple  reached  fabulous  prices.  The 
project  cut  Du  Tillet's  property,  formerly  that  of 
Birotteau,  clean  through  the  middle.  The  company 
to  which  the  canal  was  awarded  agreed  to  an  exor- 
bitant price  if  the  banker  could  deliver  his  land  at 
a  specified  time.  The  lease  given  by  Cesar  to  Pop- 
inot  was  in  the  way.  The  banker  came  to  Rue 
des  Cinq-Diamants  to  see  the  druggist.  If  Popinot 
was  indifferent  to  Du  Tillet,  yet  Cesarine's  affi- 
anced husband  bore  an  instinctive  hatred  against 
that  man.  He  was  ignorant  of  the  theft  and  the 
infamous  combinations  concocted  by  the  lucky 
banker,  but  a  voice  within  him  cried  out:  "That  man 
is  an  unpunished  robber."  Popinot  would  not  have 
the  slightest  dealings  with  him,  his  presence  was 
odious  to  him.  At  that  moment,  especially,  he  saw 
Du  Tillet  growing  rich  on  the  spoils  of  his  former 
employer,  for  the  Madeleine  land  was  beginning  to 
rise  to  a  price  that  presaged  the  exorbitant  value 
to  which  it  attained  in  1827.  And  so,  when  the 
banker  had  explained  the  nature  of  his  visit,  Popinot 
looked  at  him  with  concentrated  indignation. 

"1  do  not  want  to  refuse  to  give  up  my  lease  to 
you,  but  1  must  have  sixty  thousand  francs  for  it, 
and  not  a  single  farthing  less." 

"Sixty  thousand  francs!"  Du  Tillet  exclaimed, 
as  he  made  a  feint  of  withdrawing. 

"My  lease  has  fifteen  years  yet  to  run.  I  will 
spend   three   thousand    francs  more  a  year  to  get 


424  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

another  factory.  So  sixty  thousand  francs,  or  we 
will  say  nothing  more  about  it,"  said  Popinot,  as 
he  went  back  into  the  shop,  whither  Du  Tillet 
followed  him. 

The  discussion  became  heated.  Birotteau's  name 
was  mentioned ;  Madame  Cesar  came  down  and  saw 
Du  Tillet  for  the  first  time  since  the  famous  ball. 

The  banker  could  not  repress  a  feeling  of  surprise 
on  seeing  the  change  that  had  taken  place  in  his  old 
mistress,  and  his  eyes  drooped,  frightened  as  he 
was  at  his  work. 

"The  gentleman,"  said  Popinot  to  Madame 
Cesar,  "is  making  of  j^'our  land  three  hundred 
thousand  francs,  and  he  refuses  us  sixty  thousand 
indemnity  for  our  lease — " 

"Three  thousand  francs  income,"  said  Du  Tillet, 
emphatically. 

"Three  thousand  francs! — "  Madame  Cesar 
repeated,  in  a  simple  and  penetrating  tone. 

Du  Tillet  turned  pale;  Popinot  looked  at  Madame 
Birotteau.  There  was  a  moment's  deep  silence  that 
made  this  scene  still  more  inexplicable  to  Anselme. 

"Sign  for  me  your  release,  which  1  have  had  pre- 
pared by  Crottat,"  said  Du  Tillet,  as  he  drew  a 
stamped  paper  from  his  side  pocket.  "I  am  going  to 
give  you  a  draft  on  the  Bank  for  sixty  thousand 
francs." 

Popinot  looked  at  Madame  Cesar  without  dissem- 
bling his  profound  astonishment;  bethought  he  was 
dreaming.  While  Du  Tillet  was  making  out  his 
draft  on  a  high  desk  table,  Constance  disappeared 


IN  MISFORTUNE  425 

and  went  back  to  the  entresol.  The  druggist  and 
the  banker  exchanged  their  papers.  Uu  Tillet  left, 
giving  Popinot  a  cold  salute. 

"At  last,  in  a  few  months,"  said  Popinot,  who 
looked  after  Du  Tillet  as  he  went  along  the  Rue  des 
Lombards  where  his  cab  had  stopped,  "thanks  to 
this  singular  affair,  I  will  have  my  Cesarine.  My 
dear  little  wife  will  no  longer  spend  her  life's-blood 
in  working.  What!  a  look  from  Madame  Cesar  suf- 
ficed !  What  is  there  between  her  and  this  brigand  ? 
What  has  just  taken  place  is  rather  extraordinary." 

Popinot  sent  the  draft  to  the  Bank  to  have  it 
cashed  and  went  up  to  speak  to  Madame  Birotteau; 
but  as  he  did  not  fmd  her  at  the  cashier's  desk,  she 
was  no  doubt  in  her  room.  Anselmeand  Constance 
lived  as  live  son-in-law  and  mother-in-law,  when 
son-in-law  and  mother-in-law  agree;  he  accordingly 
went  into  Madame  Cesar's  room  with  the  natural 
eagerness  of  a  lover  who  is  attaining  his  happiness. 
The  young  merchant  was  very  much  surprised  at 
finding  his  future  mother-in-law,  whom  he  reached 
by  a  cat-like  bound,  reading  a  letter  from  Du  Tillet, 
for  Anselme  recognized  the  handwriting  of  Birot- 
teau's  former  chief  clerk.  A  lighted  candle,  the 
black  and  moving  phantoms  of  letters  burned  on  the 
hearthstone  made  Popinot  shudder,  and  he,  favored 
with  a  piercing  glance,  had  seen,  without  wanting 
to  do  so,  this  phrase  at  the  beginning  of  the  letter 
that  his  mother-in-law  was  holding:  "  /  adore  you! 
you  know  it,  angel  of  my  life,  and  why — " 

"What  influence,  then,  have  you  over  Du  Tillet 


426  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

to  make  him  agree  to  such  an  affair?"  he  said,  as 
he  laughed  with  that  convulsive  laughter  that  the 
suppression  of  an  evil  suspicion  causes. 

"Let  us  not  speak  of  that,"  she  said,  while  giving 
evidence  of  being  greatly  disturbed. 

"Yes,"  Popinot  replied,  quite  stunned,  "let  us 
speak  of  the  ending  of  your  sufferings." 

Anselme  wheeled  around  on  his  heels  and  went 
to  drum  with  his  fingers  on  the  window  panes,  as 
he  looked  into  the  court. 

"Well,"  he  said  to  himself,  "though  she  may 
have  loved  Du  Tillet,  why  should  1  not  conduct  my- 
self as  an  honest  man?" 

"What  ails  you,  my  boy?"  said  the  poor 
woman. 

"The  account  of  the  net  profits  on  the  Cephalic  Oil 
reaches  two  hundred  and  forty-two  thousand  francs, 
the  half  is  a  hundred  and  twenty-one, ' '  Popinot  said, 
brusquely.  "If  I  deduct  from  that  sum  the  forty- 
eight  thousand  francs  given  to  Monsieur  Birotteau, 
there  remain  seventy-three  thousand,  which,  added 
to  the  sixty  thousand  francs  from  the  surrender 
of  the  lease,  gives  you  a  hundred  and  thirty-three 
thousand  francs." 

Madame  Cesar  listened  in  anxious  happiness  that 
made  her  palpitate  so  violently  that  Popinot  heard 
the  heart-beats. 

"Well,  1  always  considered  Monsieur  Birotteau  as 
my  partner,"  he  continued; "we  can  dispose  of  that 
sum  to  reimburse  his  creditors.  By  adding  it  to 
that  of  the  twenty-eight  thousand  francs   of  your 


IN  MISFORTUNE  427 

savings  invested  by  your  uncle  Pillerault,  we  have 
a  hundred  and  sixty-one  thousand  francs.  Our 
uncle  will  not  refuse  us  a  receipt  for  his  twenty-five 
thousand  francs.  No  human  power  can  prevent  me 
from  lending  to  my  father-in-law,  on  account  of 
the  profits  for  next  year,  the  sum  necessary  to 
complete  the  amounts  due  to  his  creditors. — And  he 
— shall  be — made  all  right  again." 

"Made  all  right  again,"  exclaimed  Madame  Cesar, 
as  she  bent  her  knee  on  her  chair. 

She  joined  her  hands  while  reciting  a  prayer, 
after  having  let  the  letter  drop. 

"Dear  Anselme !"  she  said,  when  she  had  blessed 
herself,  "dear  boy!" 

She  clasped  his  head,  kissed  him  on  the  forehead, 
pressed  him  to  her  heart,  and  did  a  thousand  simple 
things. 

"Cesarine  may  well  be  yours!  my  daughter  will 
then  be  very  happy.  She  will  leave  that  house  in 
which  she  is  killing  herself." 

"From  love,"  said  Popinot. 

"Yes,"  the  mother  replied,  smiling. 

"Listen  to  a  little  secret,"  said  Popinot,  as  he 
looked  at  the  fatal  letter  with  the  corner  of  his  eye. 
"I  obliged  Celestin  so  as  to  enable  him  to  get  pos- 
session of  your  business,  but  1  put  a  condition  on 
my  favor.  Your  rooms  are  just  as  you  left  them. 
I  had  an  idea,  but  I  did  not  believe  that  chance 
would  be  so  favorable  to  us.  Celestin  is  bound  to 
sublet  to  you  your  old  apartments,  in  which  he  has 
not  set  foot,  and  all  the  furniture  of  which  will  be 


428  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

yours.  I  have  reserved  to  myself  the  third  floor 
to  live  in  it  with  Cesarine,  who  will  never  leave 
you.  After  my  marriage  I  will  come  to  spend  the 
days  here,  from  eight  in  the  morning  until  six  in 
the  evening.  To  make  a  new  fortune  for  you  I  will 
buy  in  Monsieur  Cesar's  interest  for  a  hundred 
thousand  francs,  and  you  will  thus  have,  with  his 
emolument,  ten  thousand  francs  income.  Won't 
you  be  happy?" 

"Tell  me  nothing  more,  Anselme,  or  I'll  become 
silly." 

Madame  Cesar's  angelic  attitude  and  the  purity 
of  her  eyes,  as  well  as  the  innocence  of  her  fine 
brow,  so  splendidly  belied  the  thousand  ideas  that 
revolved  in  the  lover's  brain  that  he  wanted  to  put 
an  end  to  his  monstrous  thought.  A  fault  was 
irreconcilable  with  the  life  and  ideas  of  Pillerault's 
niece. 

"My  dear  adored  mother,"  said  Anselme,  "in 
spite  of  me,  a  horrible  suspicion  has  just  entered  my 
mind,  if  you  want  to  see  me  happy,  you  will 
destroy  it  at  this  very  instant." 

Popinot  had  reached  out  his  hand  for  the  letter 
and  had  taken  hold  of  it. 

"Without  wishing  it, "  he  continued,  frightened  at 
the  terror  that  was  pictured  on  Constance's  coun- 
tenance, "1  read  the  first  words  of  this  letter  written 
by  Du  Tillet.  These  words  agree  so  singularly 
with  the  effect  that  you  have  just  produced  in 
determining  that  man's  ready  agreement  to  my 
extravagant  demand  that  any  man  would  explain  it 


IN  MISFORTUNE  429 

as  the  devil  explains  it  in  spite  of   myself.     Your 
look,  three  words  sufficed — " 

"Do  not  finish,"  said  Madame  Cesar,  as  she  took 
hold  of  the  letter  again  and  burned  it  before  An- 
selme's  eyes.  "My  boy,  I  am  very  cruelly  pun- 
ished for  a  very  small  offence.  Know  all,  then, 
Anselme.  I  do  not  want  the  suspicion  inspired  by 
the  mother  to  injure  the  daughter,  and,  moreover, 
I  can  speak  without  having  to  blush:  I  told  my  hus- 
band what  I  am  going  to  acknowledge  to  you.  Du 
Tillet  wanted  to  tamper  with  my  virtue.  My  hus- 
band was  at  once  notified;  Du  Tillet  must  be  dis- 
missed. The  day  on  which  my  husband  was  to 
discharge  him,  Du  Tillet  took  three  thousand  francs 
from  us!" 

"I  suspected  it,"  said  Popinot,  expressing  all  his 
hatred  in  his  tone. 

"Anselme,  your  future,  your  happiness,  demands 
this  confidence;  but  it  must  die  in  your  heart,  as  it 
was  dead  in  mine  and  in  Cesar's.  You  must  remem- 
ber my  husband's  grumbling  on  the  occasion  of  an 
error  in  the  cash.  Monsieur  Birotteau,  to  avoid  a 
lawsuit  and  not  to  ruin  that  man,  no  doubt  put  back 
into  the  drawer  three  thousand  francs,  the  price  of 
that  cashmere  shawl  that  I  did  not  get  for  three 
years  afterwards.  There  is  my  exclamation  ex- 
plained. Alas!  my  dear  boy,  I  will  acknowledge 
my  childish  behavior  to  you.  Du  Tillet  had 
written  to  me  three  love  letters,  which  pictured  him 
so  well,"  she  said,  as  she  sighed  and  drooped  her 
eyes,  "that  I  had   kept   them — as  a  curiosity.     I 


430  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

have  never  read  them  more  than  once.  But  at  last  it 
became  imprudent  to  keep  them.  On  again  seeing 
Du  Tillet,  I  thought  of  them.  I  came  up  to  my  room 
to  burn  them,  and  I  was  looking  at  the  last  when 
you  came  in. — That  is  all,  my  friend." 

Anselme  knelt  down  on  one  knee  and  kissed 
Madame  Cesar's  hand  with  an  admirable  expression 
that  made  the  tears  come  to  both  their  eyes.  The 
mother-in-law  raised  up  her  son-in-law,  stretched 
out  her  arms  towards  him  and  clasped  him  to  her 
heart. 

That  day  was  to  be  a  day  of  joy  for  Cesar.  The 
king's  private  secretary.  Monsieur  de  Vandenesse, 
came  to  the  office  to  speak  to  him.  They  went  out 
together  through  the  small  court  of  the  Sinking 
Fund  office. 

"Monsieur  Birotteau, "  said  the  Vicomte  de  Van- 
denesse, "your  efforts  to  pay  your  creditors  have  by 
chance  become  known  to  the  king.  His  Majesty, 
touched  by  conduct  so  rare,  and  knowing  that,  out 
of  humility,  you  do  not  wear  the  badge  of  the  Legion 
of  Honor,  has  sent  me  to  order  you  to  put  it  on 
again.  Then,  wishing  to  aid  you  in  meeting  your 
obligations,  he  has  charged  me  with  giving  you  this 
sum,  taken  from  his  private  purse,  regretting  that 
he  could  not  make  it  larger.  This  must  remain  a 
profound  secret.  His  Majesty  regards  the  official 
publication  of  his  good  works  to  be  anything  but 
royal,"  said  the  private  secretary,  as  he  put  six 
thousand  francs  into  the  hand  of  the  employe,  who 
during  these  remarks  felt  inexpressible  sensations. 


IN  MISFORTUNE  43 1 

Birotteau  could  utter  only  incoherent  words, 
which  he  stammered,  and  Vandenesse  smilingly 
bade  him  good-morning.  The  feeling  that  animated 
poor  Cesar  is  so  rare  in  Paris  that  his  life  had  grad- 
ually excited  admiration.  Joseph  Lebas,  Judge 
Popinot,  Camusot,  the  Abbe  Loraux,  Ragon,  the 
head  of  the  large  house  in  which  Cesarine  was  em- 
ployed, Lourdois,  and  Monsieur  de  la  Billardiere 
had  spoken  of  it.  Opinion,  already  changed  in  his 
regard,  carried  him  to  the  clouds. 

"There  goes  an  honorable  man!"  This  expres- 
sion had  already  resounded  several  times  in  Cesar's 
ear  when  he  was  passing  in  the  street,  and  pro- 
duced in  him  the  emotion  experienced  by  an  author 
on  hearing  it  said:  There  he  goes!  This  good 
fame  was  assassinating  Du  Tillet.  When  Cesar 
had  the  bank-notes  sent  by  the  sovereign,  his  first 
thought  was  to  use  them  in  paying  his  former  clerk. 
The  good  man  went  along  the  Rue  de  la  Chaussee- 
d'Antin,  so  that,  as  the  banker  was  returning  to 
his  house  from  his  rounds  he  ran  across  his  old  em- 
ployer on  the  stairway. 

"Well,  my  poor  Birotteau!"  he  said,  in  a  wheed- 
ling way. 

"Poor?"  proudly  exclaimed  the  debtor.  "I  am 
quite  rich.  I  will  lay  my  head  on  my  pillow  this 
evening  with  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  I 
have  paid  you." 

These  words,  full  of  probity,  were  a  speedy  torture 
to  Du  Tillet. 

In  spite  of  the  general  esteem,  he  did  not  esteem 


432  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

himself;   an  irrepressible  voice  cried  out  to  him: 
"That  man  is  sublime!" 

"Pay  me!   What  business  are  you  doing,  then?" 

Certain  that  Du  Tillet  was  not  going  to  repeat  his 
confidence,  the  former  perfumer  said : 

"I  will  never  resume  business,  sir.  No  human 
power  could  have  foreseen  what  has  happened  to 
me.  Who  knows  that  1  might  not  be  the  victim  of 
another  Roguin  ?  But  my  conduct  was  represented 
to  the  king,  his  heart  deigned  to  have  compassion 
on  my  efforts,  and  he  has  encouraged  them  by 
sending  to  me  on  the  spot  a  rather  large  sum 
which — " 

"Do  you  want  a  receipt?"  said  Du  Tillet,  inter- 
rupting him;  "do  you  pay?" — 

"In  full,  and  even  the  interest;  and  so  I  am  go- 
ing to  ask  you  to  come  a  couple  of  steps  from  here, 
to  Monsieur  Crottat's. " 

"Before  a  notary!" 

"But,  sir,"  said  Cesar,  "1  am  not  prevented  from 
thinking  of  rehabilitation,  and  authenticated  deeds 
are,  then,  unobjectionable — ?" 

"Come,"  said  Du  Tillet,  who  went  out  with  Bir- 
otteau,  "let  us  go ;  it  is  only  a  step.  But  whence  had 
you  so  much  money  come  to  you?"  he  continued. 

"1  do  not  take  it,"  said  Cesar.  "1  earn  it  with 
the  sweat  of  my  brow." 

"You  owe  an  enormous  sum  to  the  Claparon 
house," 

"Alas!  yes,  that  is  my  biggest  debt.  I  think,  in- 
deed, that  I  will  die  in  the  attempt."  ^ 


IN  MISFORTUNE  433 

"You  will  never  be  able  to  pay  it,"  said  Du  Til- 
let,  harshly. 

"He  is  right,"  thought  Birotteau. 

The  poor  man,  on  returning  home,  passed  through 
the  Rue  Saint-Honore,  absent-mindedly,  for  he 
always  took  a  roundabout  course,  so  as  not  to  see 
either  his  shop  or  the  windows  of  his  tenement. 
For  the  first  time  since  his  fall,  he  again  saw  that 
house  in  which  eighteen  years  of  happiness  had 
been  wiped  out  by  the  anguish  of  three  months. 

"1  had,  indeed,  thought  of  ending  my  days  there," 
he  said  to  himself. 

And  he  hurried  his  steps,  for  he  had  observed  the 
new  sign: 

CELESTIN  CREVEL 

SUCCESSOR  TO  CESAR  BIROTTEAU. 

"My  sight  is  dim. — Isn't  that  Cesarine?"  he  ex- 
claimed, as  he  remembered  having  seen  a  blond 
head  at  the  window. 

He  indeed  saw  his  daughter,  his  wife  and  Popinot. 
The  lovers  knew  that  Birotteau  never  passed  in 
front  of  his  old  house;  and,  not  being  able  to 
imagine  what  was  happening  to  him,  they  had  come 
to  make  some  arrangements  regarding  the  feast  that 
they  were  thinking  of  giving  Cesar.  This  strange 
apparition  so  keenly  astonished  Birotteau  that  he 
stood  spell-bound. 

"There  is  Monsieur  Birotteau  looking  at  his  old 
house,"  said  Monsieur  Molineux  to  the  dealer  oppo- 
site La  Reme  des  Roses. 
28 


434  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

"Poor  man,"  said  the  perfumer's  old  neighbor, 
"he  gave  one  of  the  finest  of  balls  there. — There 
were  two  hundred  carriages." 

"I  was  at  it.  He  failed  three  months  afterwards," 
said  Molineux.    "I  was  assignee." 

Birotteau  hurried  off,  his  limbs  trembling  under 
him,  and  ran  to  his  Uncle  Pillerault's. 

Pillerault,  informed  of  what  was  going  on  in  the 
Rue  des  Cinq-Diamants,  thought  that  his  nephew 
would  have  difficulty  in  bearing  the  shock  of  so 
great  a  joy  as  that  caused  by  his  rehabilitation,  for 
he  was  a  daily  witness  to  the  moral  vicissitudes  of 
that  poor  man,  always  confronted  by  his  inflexible 
doctrines  relative  to  insolvents,  and  all  of  whose 
strength  was  in  requisition  at  every  moment. 
Honor  was  to  Cesar  a  death  that  might  have  its 
Easter-day.  That  hope  made  his  grief  incessantly 
active.  Pillerault  undertook  to  prepare  his  nephew 
to  receive  the  good  news.  When  Birotteau  entered 
his  uncle's  house  he  found  him  thinking  of  the 
means  of  attaining  this  end.  And  so  the  joy  with 
which  the  employe  related  the  evidence  of  interest 
that  the  king  had  given  seemed  of  good  augury  to 
Pillerault,  and  the  astonishment  at  having  seen 
Cesarine  at  La  Reine  des  Roses  was  an  excellent 
preparation  for  the  subject. 

"Well,  Cesar,"  said  Pillerault,  "do  you  know 
how  that  comes  to  you  ?  From  Popinot's  impatience 
to  marry  Cesarine.  He  will  no  longer,  and  should 
not,  on  account  of  your  exaggerated  probity,  allow 
his  youth  to  pass  in  eating  dry  bread  to  the  savor 


IN  MISFORTUNE  435 

of  a  good  dinner.  Popinot  wants  to  give  you  the 
money  necessary  for  the  full  payment  of  your 
debts." 

"He  is  buying  his  wife,"  said  Birotteau. 

"isn't  it  honorable  to  put  one's  father-in-law  in 
good  shape?" 

"But  there  is  room  for  debate.     Moreover, — " 

"Moreover,"  said  the  uncle,  feigning  anger, 
"you  may  have  the  right  to  sacrifice  yourself,  but 
you  should  not  sacrifice  your  daughter." 

A  rather  heated  discussion  followed,  which  Pille- 
rault  designedly  made  exciting. 

"Well!  if  Popinot  lent  you  nothing,"  Pillerault 
exclaimed,  "if  he  had  considered  you  as  his  partner, 
if  he  had  regarded  the  price  given  to  your  creditors 
for  his  share  in  the  oil  as  an  advance  of  profits,  so 
as  not  to  rob  you — " 

"I  would  have  the  appearance  of  having,  in  con- 
cert with  him,  deceived  my  creditors." 

Pillerault  feigned  to  let  himself  be  beaten  by  this 
reason.  He  was  well  enough  acquainted  with  the 
human  heart  to  I<now  that,  during  the  night,  the 
worthy  man  would  quarrel  with  himself  on  this 
point;  and  that  internal  discussion  accustomed  him 
to  the  idea  of  his  rehabilitation. 

"But  why,"  he  said,  at  dinner,  "were  my  wife 
and  daughter  in  my  old  apartments?" 

"Anselme  wants  to  rent  them  in  order  to  live 
there  with  Cesarine.  Your  wife  is  on  his  side. 
Without  saying  anything  to  you  about  it,  they 
have    gone    and  had  the  bans  published,  so  as  to 


436  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

compel  you  to  consent.  Popinot  says  that  he  will 
have  less  merit  in  marrying  Cesarine  after  you  are 
made  all  right.  You  take  the  king's  six  thousand 
francs,  and  you  do  not  want  to  accept  anything  from 
your  relatives!  As  for  me,  I  can  very  well  give 
you  a  receipt  for  what  is  coming  to  me.  Do  you 
refuse  me?" 

"No,"  said  Cesar,  "but  that  would  not  prevent 
me  from  saving  up  in  order  to  pay  you,  in  spite  of 
the  receipt." 

"That's  all  subtlety,"  said  Pillerault,  "and  in 
matters  of  honesty  I  ought  to  be  believed.  What  a 
stupid  thing  you  said  a  moment  ago!  Shall  you 
have  deceived  your  creditors  when  you  will  have 
paid  them  all  ?" 

At  that  moment  Cesar  was  examining  Pillerault, 
and  Pillerault  was  moved  at  seeing,  after  three  years, 
an  unrestrained  smile  for  the  first  time  animating 
the  saddened  features  of  his  nephew. 

"True,"  he  said,  "they  would  be  paid — but  it  is 
selling  my  daughter !" 

"And  1  want  to  be  bought,"  exclaimed  Cesarine, 
as  she  made  her  appearance  along  with  Popinot. 

The  two  lovers  had  heard  these  last  words  as  on 
tiptoe  they  entered  the  ante-chamber  of  their  uncle's 
little  quarters,  and  Madame  Birotteau  followed  them. 
All  three  had  hurried  in  a  carriage  to  the  creditors 
that  remained  to  be  paid,  to  get  them  to  assemble  in 
the  evening  at  Alexandre  Crottat's,  where  the 
receipts  were  being  prepared.  The  logical  power  of 
Popinot,  the  lover,  triumphed  over  Cesar's  scruples, 


IN   MISFORTUNE  437 

though  the  latter  persisted  in  calling  himself  a 
debtor,  pretending  that  he  was  defrauding  the  law 
by  an  innovation.  But  he  let  the  researches  of  his 
conscience  yield  to  an  exclamation  from  Popinot: 

"You  want  to  kill  your  daughter,  then?" 

"Kill  my  daughter?"  said  Cesar,  stunned. 

"Well,"  said  Popinot,  "1  have  the  right,  among 
the  living,  to  make  you  a  present  of  the  sum  that, 
conscientiously,  1  think  to  be  yours  in  my  business. 
Would  you  refuse  me?" 

"iNo,"  said  Cesar. 

"Well,  let  us  go  to  Alexandre  Crottat's  this  even- 
ing, so  that  we  will  not  have  to  go  back  over  that 
business;  we  will  arrange  there  at  the  same  time 
about  our  marriage-contract." 

A  petition  for  rehabilitation  and  all  the  documents 
supporting  it  were  presented,  by  Derville's  care,  to 
the  attorney-general  of  the  royal  court  of  Paris. 

During  the  month  that  the  formalities  and  publi- 
cations of  the  bans  for  Cesarine's  marriage  to  An- 
selme  lasted,  Birotteau  was  affected  by  feverish 
sensations.  He  was  restless,  he  was  afraid  he 
would  not  live  until  the  great  day  when  the  decision 
would  be  given.  His  heart  palpitated  without 
cause,  he  said.  He  complained  of  dull  pains  in  that 
organ,  so  much  used  up  by  his  emotions  of  sorrow 
that  he  was  fatigued  by  this  supreme  joy.  Decrees 
of  rehabilitation  are  so  rare  in  the  business  of  the 
royal  court  of  Paris  that  it  pronounces  scarcely  one 
in  ten  years.  To  those  who  take  society  seri- 
ously,  the   formalities   of   justice  have  something 


438  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

indescribably  great  and  serious.     Institutions  de- 
pend entirely  on  the   weight  that   men  attach   to 
them  and  the  grandeur  with  which  they  are  clad 
by  thought.     And  so,   when  nothing  is  left,  not  of 
religion,   but  of  belief,  in  a  people,  when  primary 
education  has  loosened  therein  all  the  conservative 
bonds  by  habituating  the  child  to  a  pitiless  analysis, 
a  nation   is  dissolved;    for   it  is  no  longer  a  body 
except  by  the  ignoble  welding  of  material  interests, 
by  the  commandments  of  the  worship  of  a  well- 
understood  egotism.     Fed  on  religious  ideas,  Birot- 
teau  took  justice  for  what  it  ought  to  be  in  men's 
eyes,  a  representation  of  society  itself,   an  august 
expression  of  the  accepted  law,  independent  of  the 
form  in  which  it  is  produced:  the  older,  the  more 
worn,  the  more  hoary  a  magistracy  is,  the  more 
solemn,  moreover,  is  the  exercise  of  its  priesthood, 
which  means  so  profound  a  study  of  men  and  things, 
which  sacrifices  the  heart  and  hardens  it  under  the 
tutelage  of  palpitating  interests.    They  become  rare, 
those  men  who  do  not  climb  with  keen  emotions  the 
ladder  of  the  royal  court,  in  the  old  Palais  de  Justice 
at  Paris,  and  the  former  merchant  was  one  of  these 
men.     Few  persons  have  remarked  the  mysterious 
solemnity  of  that  stairway  so  admirably  situated  to 
produce  an  effect:    it  is  found  above  the  exterior 
peristyle  that  adorns  the  Palace  court,  and  its  door- 
way is  in  the  middle  of  a  gallery  that  leads  from 
one  end  to  the  immense  Salle  des  Pas  Perdus,  from 
the  other  to  the  Sainte-Chapelle,  two  monuments 
that  may  well  make  everything  around  them  look 


IN  MISFORTUNE  439 

mean.  The  church  of  Saint-Louis  is  one  of  the  most 
imposing  edifices  in  Paris,  and  the  approach  to  it 
has  an  indescribably  sombre  and  romantic  appear- 
ance from  the  end  of  that  gallery.  The  great  Salle 
des  Pas  Perdus,  on  the  contrary,  has  a  vista  full  of 
light,  and  it  is  difficult  to  forget  that  the  history  of 
France  is  bound  up  with  that  hall.  This  stairway 
must,  then,  have  some  rather  imposing  character- 
istic, for  it  is  not  too  much  crowded  by  these  two 
magnificences.  Perhaps  the  soul  is  there  moved  at 
the  aspect  of  the  place  where  decrees  are  rendered, 
seen  through  the  rich  grating  of  the  Palace.  The 
stairway  opens  on  an  immense  room,  the  ante- 
chamber to  that  in  which  the  court  holds  the  ses- 
sions of  its  first  chamber,  and  which  forms  the 
Salle  des  Pas  Perdus  of  the  court.  Imagine  what 
emotions  must  have  been  experienced  by  the  insol- 
vent, who  was  naturally  impressed  by  these  acces- 
sories, as  he  ascended  to  the  court  surrounded  by 
his  friends:  Lebas,  then  president  of  the  Tribunal 
of  Commerce;  Camusot,  his  former  commissary- 
judge,  Ragon,  his  old  em.ployer;  the  Abbe  Loraux, 
his  confessor.  The  holy  priest  pointed  out  those 
human  splendors  with  a  reflection  that  made  them 
still  more  imposing  in  Cesar's  eyes.  Pillerault, 
that  practical  philosopher,  had  thought  of  exagger- 
ating in  advance  his  nephew's  joy,  so  as  to  relieve 
him  from  the  dangers  of  the  unforeseen  events  of 
that  feast.  Just  as  the  former  merchant  was  com- 
pleting his  toilet,  he  saw  his  true  friends  approach- 
ing, and  they  deemed  it  an  honor   to  accompany 


440  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

him  to  the  bar  of  the  court.  This  escort  developed 
in  the  brave  man  a  contentment  that  threw  him 
into  the  exaltation  necessary  to  bear  up  against  the 
imposing  spectacle  of  the  court.  Birotteau  found 
other  friends  assembled  in  the  hall  of  the  solemn 
sessions,  where  sat  a  dozen  judges. 

After  the  cases  had  been  called,  Birotteau's  law- 
yer made  the  request  in  a  few  words.  On  a  sign 
from  the  first  president,  the  advocate-general,  in- 
vited to  give  his  conclusions,  arose.  In  the  name  of 
the  law,  the  attorney-general,  the  man  who  repre- 
sents the  public  right,  went  himself  to  ask  that  he 
restore  honor  to  the  merchant  who  had  only  pledged 
it:  a  unique  ceremony,  for  the  culprit  can  be  but 
pardoned.  People  with  feeling  may  imagine  Birot- 
teau's emotions  when  he  heard  Monsieur  de  Gran- 
ville pronouncing  a  discourse,  of  which  the  following 
is  a  synopsis  : 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  famous  magistrate,  "on 
the  sixteenth  of  January,  1820,  Birotteau  was 
declared  in  a  state  of  insolvency  by  a  decree  of  the 
Tribunal  of  Commerce  of  the  Seine,  The  stoppage 
of  payment  was  not  caused  either  by  this  trader's 
imprudence,  or  by  false  speculations,  or  by  any 
reason  that  could  stain  his  honor.  We  feel  the 
need  of  saying  so  distinctly:  this  misfortune  was 
caused  by  one  of  those  disasters  that  have  been 
repeated  to  the  great  grief  of  justice  and  of  the  city 
of  Paris.  It  was  reserved  for  our  age,  in  which  for 
a  long  time  yet  will  be  fermented  the  unwholesome 
leaven  of  the  manners  and  ideas  of  the  Revolution, 


IN  MISFORTUNE  441 

to  see  the  notary's  office  in  Paris  straying  away 
from  the  glorious  traditions  of  the  preceding  ages, 
and  producing  in  a  few  years  as  many  failures  as 
are  to  be  found  in  two  centuries  under  the  old  mon- 
archy. The  greed  for  gold  rapidly  acquired  has 
attacked  the  ministerial  officers,  those  guardians  of 
the  public  fortune,  those  intermediary  magistrates!" 

Tnere  was  a  tirade  on  this  text,  in  which,  in 
obedience  to  the  necessities  of  his  office,  the  Comte 
de  Granville  found  the  means  to  incriminate  the 
Liberals,  the  Bonapartists  and  other  enemies  of  the 
throne.  The  event  has  proved  that  this  magistrate 
was  right  in  his  apprehensions. 

"The  flight  of  a  Paris  notary,  who  ran  off  with 
the  money  entrusted  to  him  by  Birotteau,  decided 
the  petitioner's  ruin,"  he  continued.  "The  court, 
in  this  case,  has  rendered  a  decision  which  proves 
to  what  extent  the  confidence  of  Roguin's  clients 
was  shamefully  deceived.  A  settlement  intervened. 
We  will  state,  to  the  petitioner's  honor,  that  the 
operations  were  remarkable  for  a  purity  that  is  to 
be  found  in  none  of  the  failures  of  a  scandalous 
character  with  which  the  trade  of  Paris  is  every  day 
afflicted.  Birotteau's  creditors  found  the  smallest 
things  that  the  unfortunate  man  was  possessed  of. 
They  found,  gentlemen,  his  clothing,  his  jewelry, 
in  fine,  the  articles  of  purely  personal  use,  not  only 
belonging  to  himself,  but  those  of  his  wife,  who 
abandoned  all  her  rights  to  swell  the  assets.  Birot- 
teau, on  this  occasion,  was  worthy  of  the  considera- 
tion that  had  been  won  for  him  by  the  municipal 


442  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

offices  he  had  held ;  for  he  was  then  deputy  to  the 
mayor  of  the  second  arrondissement  and  had  re- 
ceived the  decoration  of  the  Legion  of  Honor,  granted 
as  much  because  of  the  devotedness  of  the  Royalist 
who  fought  in  Vendemiaire  on  the  steps  of  Saint- 
Roch,  then  stained  with  his  blood,  as  to  the  consular 
magistrate  esteemed  for  his  intelligence,  loved 
for  his  conciliatory  spirit,  and  to  the  modest 
municipal  officer  who  had  refused  the  honors  of  the 
mayorship  while  suggesting  one  more  worthy,  the 
Honorable  Baron  de  la  Billardi^re,  one  of  the  noble 
Vendeans,  whom  he  had  learned  to  esteem  in  evil 
days." 

"That  phrase  is  better  than  mine,"  Cesar  whis- 
pered in  his  uncle's  ear. 

"And  so  the  creditors,  finding  sixty  per  cent  of 
their  claims  by  the  surrender  of  all  that  this  loyal 
merchant,  his  wife  and  his  daughter  possessed,  have 
recorded  the  expressions  of  their  esteem  in  the  set- 
tlement that  was  made  between  them  and  their 
debtor,  and  released  him  from  the  rest  of  their 
claims.  These  testimonies  recommend  themselves 
to  the  attention  of  the  court  by  the  manner  in  which 
they  are  conceived." 

Here  the  attorney-general  read  the  terms  of  the 
settlement. 

"In  the  presence  of  these  kindly  dispositions, 
gentlemen,  many  merchants  would  have  felt  them- 
selves in  a  position  to  consider  themselves  liberated, 
and  would  have  walked  out  proudly  in  public.  Far 
otherwise,  Birotteau,  without  allowing  himself  to  be 


IN  MISFORTUNE  443 

dejected,  formed  in  his  conscience  the  plan  of  reach- 
ing the  glorious  day  that  dawns  here  for  him. 
Nothing  has  daunted  him.  A  place  is  accorded  by 
our  well-beloved  sovereign  to  give  bread  to  the 
wounded  man  of  Saint-Roch,  the  insolvent  reserves 
the  salary  for  his  creditors  without  taking  anything 
from  it  for  his  own  wants,  for  the  devotedness  of  the 
family  has  not  failed  him — " 

Birotteau,  weeping,  wrung  his  uncle's  hands. 

"His  wife  and  daughter  poured  into  the  common 
treasury  the  fruits  of  their  toil ;  they  had  espoused 
Birotteau's  noble  idea.  Each  of  them  went  down 
from  the  position  that  she  had  occupied  to  take  one 
inferior  to  it.  These  sacrifices,  gentlemen,  ought 
to  be  highly  honored;  they  are  the  most  difficult  of 
all  to  make.  Such  was  the  task  that  Birotteau 
imposed  upon  himself." 

Here  the  attorney-general  read  the  resume  of  the 
balance-sheet,  pointing  out  the  sums  that  remained 
due  and  the  creditors'  names. 

"Each  of  these  sums,  interest  included,  has  been 
paid,  gentlemen,  not  by  receipts  over  private  signa- 
tures that  call  for  the  strictest  inquiry,  but  by  au- 
thentic receipts  by  which  the  scruples  of  the  court 
could  not  be  taken  by  surprise,  and  which  have  not 
prevented  the  magistrates  from  doing  their  duty  by 
proceeding  to  the  inquiry  demanded  by  the  law. 
You  will  give  back  to  Birotteau  not  honor,  but  the 
rights  of  which  he  had  been  deprived,  and  you  will 
do  justice.  Such  sights  are  so  rare  in  your  pres- 
ence that  we  cannot  refrain  from  testifying  to  the 


444  CESAR   BIROTTEAU 

petitioner  how  much  we  applaud  such  conduct, 
which  had  already  been  encouraged  by  august  pro- 
tection." 

Then  he  read  the  formal  conclusions  in  the 
Palace  style. 

The  court  deliberated  without  retiring,  and  the 
president  arose  to  pronounce  the  decree. 

"The  court,"  he  said,  in  closing,  "charges  me  to 
express  to  Birotteau  the  satisfaction  that  it  feels  in 
giving  such  a  judgment. — Clerk,  call  the  next  case. " 

Birotteau,  already  clad  in  the  caftan  of  honor  by 
the  phrases  applied  to  him  by  the  illustrious  attor- 
ney-general, was  thunderstruck  with  pleasure  as  he 
heard  the  solemn  phrase  spoken  by  the  first  presi- 
dent of  the  highest  royal  court  of  France,  and  which 
betrayed  emotions  in  the  heart  of  impassible 
human  justice.  He  was  unable  to  leave  his  place 
at  the  bar,  he  seemed  to  have  been  nailed  to  it, 
looking  in  a  stupefied  way  at  the  magistrates,  as  if 
they  were  angels  who  had  come  to  reopen  to  him 
the  gates  of  social  life;  his  uncle  took  him  by  the 
arm  and  led  him  into  the  hall.  Cesar,  who  had  not 
obeyed  Louis  XVIIl.,  then  mechanically  put  the 
ribbon  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  in  his  button-hole, 
and  was  all  at  once  surrounded  by  his  friends  and 
carried  in  triumph  to  his  carriage. 

"Where,  my  friends,  are  you  taking  me.?"  he 
asked  Joseph  Lebas,  Pillerault  and  Ragon. 

"To  your  home." 

"No,  it  is  three  o'clock;  I  want  to  go  to  the 
Bourse  and  use  my  right." 


IN  MISFORTUNE  445 

"To  the  Bourse,"  said  Pillerault  to  the  driver, 
as  he  made  an  expressive  sign  to  Lebas,  for  he 
noticed  disturbing  symptoms  in  the  rehabilitated, 
and  he  was  afraid  his  mind  would  become  affected. 

The  former  perfumer  entered  the  Bourse,  giving 
his  arm  to  his  uncle  and  Lebas,  those  two  vener- 
ated merchants.  His  rehabilitation  was  known. 
The  first  person  who  saw  the  three  merchants,  fol- 
lowed by  old  Ragon,  was  Du  Tillet. 

"Ah!  my  dear  master,  I  am  delighted  to  know 
that  you  have  got  out  of  it.  I  have,  perhaps,  con- 
tributed to  this  happy  ending  of  your  troubles,  by 
the  ease  with  which  I  let  little  Popinot  make  a 
good  thing.  I  am  as  well  pleased  at  your  happiness 
as  if  it  were  my  ov/n. " 

"You  could  not  be  otherwise,"  said  Pillerault 
"That  will  never  happen  to  you." 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir.?"  said  Du  Tillet. 

"Zounds!  a  good  hit,"  said  Lebas,  smiling  at 
Pillerault's  revengeful  malice,  for  the  latter,  with- 
out knowing  anything,  regarded  this  man  as  a  crim- 
inal. 

Matifat  recognized  Cesar.  All  at  once  the  mer- 
chants of  best  repute  surrounded  the  former  perfumer 
and  gave  him  a  Bourse  ovation ;  he  received  the 
most  flattering  compliments,  hand-shakings  that 
awakened  many  jealousies,  excited  some  remorse, 
for,  out  of  a  hundred  persons  who  were  parading 
there,  more  than  fifty  had  failed.  Gigonnet  and 
Gobseck,  who  were  chatting  in  a  corner,  looked  at 
the  honest  perfumer  as  physicians  must  have  looked 


446  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

at  the  first  electric  gymnote  that  was  shown  to 
them.  This  fish,  possessing  the  power  of  a  Leyden 
jar,  is  the  greatest  curiosity  of  the  animal  kingdom. 
After  having  breathed  the  incense  of  his  triumph, 
Cesar  went  baci<  into  his  hack  and  set  out  to  return 
to  his  house,  where  the  marriage-contract  between 
his  dear  Cesarine  and  the  devoted  Popinot  was  ta 
be  signed.  He  had  a  nervous  laugh  that  struck  his 
three  old  friends. 

A  failing  of  youth  is  to  believe  everybody  as 
strong  as  it  is  itself,  a  failing  that,  moreover, 
belongs  to  its  qualities.  Instead  of  seeing  men  and 
things  through  glasses,  it  colors  them  with  the 
reflections  from  its  flame,  and  casts  its  exuberance 
of  life  even  on  old  people.  Like  Cesar  and  Con- 
stance, Popinot  kept  in  his  memory  a  gorgeous 
image  of  the  ball  given  by  Birotteau.  During 
those  three  years  of  trials,  Constance  and  Cesar  had, 
without  saying  so  to  themselves,  often  heard  Col- 
linet's  orchestra,  again  seen  the  flowery  assemblage, 
and  tasted  that  joy  so  cruelly  punished,  as  Adam 
and  Eve  must  sometimes  have  thought  of  that  for- 
bidden fruit  that  gave  death  and  life  to  all  their 
posterity,  for  it  seems  that  the  reproduction  of  the 
angels  is  one  of  Heaven's  mysteries.  But  Popinot 
could  think  of  that  feast  without  remorse,  nay,  with 
delight:  Cesarine,  in  all  her  glory,  had  promised  to 
be  his,  when  he  was  poor.  During  that  evening 
he  had  been  assured  that  he  was  loved  for  his  own 
sake.  And  so,  when  he  had  redeemed  from  Ce- 
lestin   the   apartments  that  Grindot   had   restored. 


IN  MISFORTUNE  447 

stipulating  that  everything   should    remain  intact, 
when  he  had  scrupulously  preserved  intact  the  small- 
est things  that  had  belonged  to  Cesar  and  Constance, 
he  dreamt  of  giving  his  ball,  a  marriage  ball.     He 
had  lovingly  prepared  for  this  feast,  imitating  his 
employer  only  in  the  expenses  that  were  necessary, 
and  not  in  foolishness:    the  foolishness  had  been 
done.     Thus  the  dinner  was  to  be  served  by  Chevet, 
the  guests  were  almost  the  same.     The  Abbe  Loraux 
took  the  place  of  the  grand  chancellor  of  the  Legion 
of  Honor;    the  president  of  the  Tribunal  of  Com- 
merce, Lebas,  did  not  fail  to  attend.    Popinot  invited 
Monsieur  Camusot  to  thank  him  for  the  good  wishes 
that  he  had  lavished  on  Birotteau.     Monsieur   de 
Vandenesse  and  Monsieur  de  Fontaine  came  instead 
of  Roguin  and  his  wife.     Cesarine  and  Popinot  had 
distributed  their  invitations  for  the  ball  with  dis- 
cernment.    Both  equally  dreaded  the  publicity  of  a 
wedding ;  they  had  obviated  the  friction  that  annoys 
tender  and  pure  hearts  by  arranging  to  give  the  ball 
on  the  day  of  the  contract.     Constance  had  found 
again  that  cherry  dress  in  which,  for  a  single  day, 
she  had  shone  with  such  flitting  splendor!     It  had 
pleased  Cesarine  to  give  Popinot  the  surprise  of 
showing  herself  in  that  ball  toilet,  of  which  he  had 
spoken  to  her  many  and  many  a  time.     Thus  the 
rooms  were  going  to  present  to  Birotteau  the  enchant- 
ing spectacle  that   he    had  enjoyed  during  a  single 
evening.       Neither    Constance,     nor    Cesar,     nor 
Anselme  had  perceived  the  danger  that  Cesar  would 
incur  in  this  great  surprise,  and  they  awaited  him 


448  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 

at  four  o'clock  with  a  joy  that  made  them  do  childish 
things. 

After  the  inexpressible  emotions  that  he  had  just 
experienced  on  account  of  his  re-entering  the 
Bourse,  that  hero  of  commercial  honesty  was  going 
to  receive  the  shock  that  awaited  him  in  the  Rue 
Saint-Honore.  When,  on  re-entering  his  former 
home,  he  saw  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  that  had 
remained  new,  his  wife,  in  a  cherry  velvet  dress, 
Cesarine,  the  Comte  de  Fontaine,  the  Vicomte  de 
Vandenesse,  the  Baron  de  la  Billardi^re,  the  illus- 
trious Vauquelin,  there  came  a  slight  veil  over  his 
eyes,  and  his  Uncle  Pillerault,  who  gave  him  his 
arm,  felt  an  internal  trembling. 

"It  is  too  much, "  said  the  philosopher  to  Anselme, 
the  lover;  "he  will  never  be  able  to  stand  all  the 
wine  that  you  are  pouring  out  for  him." 

Joy  was  so  deeply  impressed  on  all  hearts  that 
each  one  attributed  Cesar's  emotion  and  his  stag- 
gering to  some  quite  natural  intoxication,  but  one 
that  is  often  mortal.  On  finding  himself  again  in 
his  own  house,  on  again  seeing  his  parlor,  his 
guests,  among  whom  were  women  in  ball  dress, 
suddenly  the  heroic  movement  of  the  finale  of 
Beethoven's  grand  symphony  burst  forth  in  his  head 
and  in  his  heart. 

That  ideal  music  radiated,  played  in  all  its 
moods,  made  clarion  sounds  in  all  the  meninges  of 
that  wearied  brain,  for  which  it  was  to  be  the  grand 
finale. 

Overwhelmed  by  this  internal  harmony,  he  went 


THE  DEATH  OF  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 


"Behold  the  death  of  the  Just;'  said  the  Abbe 
Loranx,  in  a  gra^'e  voice  as  he  pointed  to  Cesar 
li'ith  one  of  those  divine  gestures  that  Rembrandt 
has  interpreted  in  his  painting  of  Christ  bringing 
Lazarus  back  to  life. 


''Ulku-l.-^A  u</  /.y^i'  /y.  '^.3$. 


!N  MISFORTUNE  449 

to  take  his  wife's  arm  and  to  whisper  in  her  ear,  in 
a  voice  stifled  by  a  continuous  flow  of  blood: 

"I  am  not  well!" 

Constance,  frightened,  led  her  husband  into  her 
room,  which  he  did  not  reach  without  difficulty,  and 
where  he  threw  himself  into  an  arm-chair,  saying: 

"Monsieur  Haudry!  Monsieur  Loraux!" 

The  Abbe  Loraux  came,  followed  by  the  guests 
and  the  women  in  ball  costume,  all  of  whom  stopped 
and  formed  a  stunned  group.  In  the  presence  of 
those  flower-bedecked  people,  Cesar  pressed  his  con- 
fessor's hand  and  leaned  his  head  on  his  kneeling 
wife's  bosom.  A  vessel  had  already  burst  in  his 
chest,  and  the  flow  from  the  aneurism  strangled  his 
last  breath. 

"Behold  the  death  of  the  just,"  said  the  Abbe 
Loraux,  in  a  grave  voice  as  he  pointed  to  Cesar 
with  one  of  those  divine  gestures  that  Rembrandt 
has  interpreted  in  his  painting  of  Christ  bringing 
Lazarus  back  to  life. 

Jesus  orders  the  earth  to  give  up  its  prey,  the 
holy  priest  pointed  out  to  Heaven  a  martyr  of  com- 
mercial honesty  to  be  decorated  with  the  eternal 
palm. 

Paris,  November  and  December,  1837. 


LIST  OF    ETCHINGS 


VOLUME  VII 

PAGE 

AT  HOME Fronts. 

Mme.  AND  CESARINE  BIROTTEAU 112 

IN  MISFORTUNE 304 

AT  THE  BARON   DE  NUCINGEN'S 320 

THE  DEATH  OF  CESAR  BIROTTEAU 448 


7  N.  R.,  C.  B.  451 


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